


The Start of Something New

by javajunkie



Category: Arrow - Fandom
Genre: College AU, Comedy, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Romantic Comedy, olicity au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajunkie/pseuds/javajunkie
Summary: OLICITY COLLEGE AU - NOW COMPLETE!Oliver Queen, wanting a normal college experience, gains admission to MIT under his mother's maiden name. Free from the constraints and expectations of the Queen name, everything is new and surprising, and none more so than the bespectacled blonde he suddenly finds in his life.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 227
Kudos: 348





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've started rewatching Arrow which led to me revisiting my Arrow stories and, in some cases, working on finishing them! This one was originally posted over on Fanfiction.net (I'm Spykid18 over there). I have three chapters already written, so you'll get a chapter a day until I start writing new chapters.
> 
> Happy reading!

Oliver stepped out of the town car, reaching up and adjusting his Ray Ban sunglasses. The campus was bustling with activity: students lugging boxes to their dorms, parents anxiously sending their first-borns off to the harrowing unsupervised life, upperclassmen watching this all lazily from the quad. What was most invigorating to Oliver, however, was the complete lack of attention anyone was paying him.

He'd spent most of his life with people looking at him. It was part of the daily run of things when your family employed most of your town. Starling City was known for few things, but among that slight list was Queen Consolidated. They'd made a name for themselves, and with that a name for the family. Save, that name didn't hold much weight outside city limits, and Cambridge, Massachusetts was just far enough that no one batted a lash. Of course, he'd enrolled with his mother's maiden name to be safe.

He hadn't told his parents that, just like he hadn't actually told them he was going to MIT until a week before he was due to leave. Like most things that his parents wouldn't approve of, it was best to wait until the absolute last moment. Before MIT, the plan – at least according to Moira and Robert Queen – had been for him to attend Starling City University while simultaneously taking some responsibility at Queen Consolidated.

"You will be taking the company over when I retire," his father had reminded him any time the opportunity arose. For Robert Queen, that appeared to happen every other day.

Oliver had nodded along, all the while applying to MIT and a few other select schools, hoping that he'd get his ticket out of Starling City. He ended up with options – MIT along with two other schools offering him acceptance – but there was no real choice to make. MIT was perfect. It was far enough away that he'd get out from under his parent's thumb, and it had a decent architecture program, Oliver's true passion.

So, he'd sent a letter of intent to MIT and then broke the news to his parents. They hadn't taken it well, but he held his ground, spinning some tale of how he'd work at Queen Consolidated on breaks and would assume his rightful role in the family dynasty when he completed his four years. He had no intention of following through with this, but it was enough to silence his parents. They could sense his promise was not genuine, but if their son had taken anything from them it was his stubbornness. He had made up his mind, and they decided that a four year detour was something they could manage. It was four years, after all, to convince him to change his mind.

The town car had been their idea, although Oliver was wholly against it. The whole point of going to MIT was to blend in, and arriving in a town car didn't exactly do that.

"I can take it from here," Oliver told the driver, pulling his two massive suitcases behind him, laptop bag hanging precariously from his shoulder. It was going to be a bitch to get to Krannert Hall – the map he'd looked at on the way there said it was a good two blocks away – but he'd manage.

"Are you sure, sir? You have a lot to carry there."

"I'm fine," Oliver said. "Thank you for your help."

The man nodded and then rolled up the window, pulling away from the curb. The campus was like a maze at this point in the semester, all the people around serving to impede foot traffic as much as the standing buildings. He wove his way through the crowds, running over a few toes with his rolling luggage. Finally he arrived at Krannert Hall to promptly be told the elevators were out of service.

"It really sucks," one of the resident assistants said. "Especially with all you guys moving in. You can take the stairs, if you want. The guy should be here soon, though."

Not having much faith in 'the guy' making a speedy appearance, Oliver headed for the stairs and made the laborious five flight trip up to his floor. It would have been a cinch if it was just him, but the heavy luggage made it more difficult. He was sweating and panting by the time he made it up to the fifth floor, sweat dripping down his temples and the back of his shirt damp.

His room was 513, and he was relieved to find it was just to the north of the stairwell. The door was slightly ajar and he nudged it open with his foot, walking in. He noticed the framed comic books lining the wall first, and then the petite blonde stretched out on one of the beds. She was laying on her stomach, flipping through some magazine propped on the pillow. She glanced back at him and smiled.

"Hi."

"Hi," he said, wiping at his brow. "I think I have the wrong room. Or you do."

"Well, what room are you supposed to be in?"

"I thought it was 513," he said, putting his laptop bag down on the bed. He reached in and pulled out the welcome packet. "Yeah, it says 513."

"Then you're in the right room," she returned with a grin.

He glanced down at the paper again, and then back up at her. "I'm guessing you're not Roger Silverman?"

"Astute observations skills there, Watson," she quipped. "No, I'm not Roger. He's out tracking down your R.A. He had some wall art questions. Namely, if he's going to be charged for the nail he just drove into the wall."

Oliver laughed. "I think it said in the packet that you can't use nails."

"That's what I told him but he wouldn't listen. Typical male. Anyway, I'm Felicity."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Oliver."

"You look like an Oliver," she noted, tilting her head to the side.

"I do?" he asked with a slight grin, wondering exactly what that meant.

"Yes. I mean, not that it means anything. I don't know any Olivers. But I'd imagine they're good looking. Which makes sense because you're good looking." He smirked at that and her eyes widened slightly. "I'm not hitting on you. I swear. You're just…you're good looking. Empirically, so. Your face is all symmetrical and…wow…I just keep going on about it, don't I? I'm going to stop talking now."

Oliver let the silence between them stand for a moment and then said, "Well, thank you for that."

She swallowed hard and nodded. "You're welcome."

The door opened behind him and he could hear Felicity mumble, "Thank God."

"You must be Oliver Dearden," a boy who looked to be about his age, if not a bit younger, said. He had a stocky build and curly black hair. He was wearing loose jeans and graphic tshirt that said 'More Cowbell'. He recognized the phrase from an old Will Ferrel SNL skit.

"Nice shirt," Oliver said appreciatively.

"You get it?" he said with a grin. "I can't tell you how many people today haven't gotten it."

"That's a great skit."

"The greatest," Roger agreed. He held out his hand. "I'm Roger. Which you probably guessed."

Oliver laughed. "Yeah. It's nice to meet you."

"So, what's the verdict?" Felicity asked from Roger's bed.

"No nails," Roger said. "We'll have to get some of those sticky tab things from Target."

Felicity scrunched her nose. "I hate the sticky tab things."

"What about the holes you already put into the wall?" Oliver asked. He didn't know why he was interested, but this whole wall art debacle seemed to be a hot topic in the room.

"We'll get some white paint and just go over them," he said dismissively. "They'll never know the difference."

"Couldn't you just do that at the end of the year?" Oliver suggested. "You know, use nails now. Fix it later. It's not like they're going to be removing your comics and checking for nails."

Roger nodded slowly. "I like how you think, Oliver. You're a renegade."

Oliver shrugged. "I try."

"Crap, I'm late for my floor orientation," Felicity said, jumping off the bed. "Don't leave for dinner without me, okay?"

"I won't," Roger said. "Meet you on your floor at six?"

"I'll be there." She rushed out of the room, but then came back to the doorway and quickly said, "It was nice meeting you, Oliver."

"You too, Felicity."

Oliver watched her disappear from the doorway and said, "She's different."

Roger was looking at the wall beside his bed, a framed comic in each hand, and said, "Felicity? Yeah, she's pretty great."

He thought of her spread out on the bed before and asked, "Are you two dating?"

Roger laughed. "No. We did when we were about six, but things went south pretty quickly when I stole her ring pop."

"That is a pretty grave offense. So, you two grew up together?"

"Yeah. What do you think should go here: _Batman and Robin_ or _The Green Arrow_? I can't choose."

Oliver watched Roger hold both up against the wall, then said, "I'd go with _The Green Arrow_."

Roger tried them both again and then nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right."

* * *

When Roger and Oliver arrived on Felicity's floor to go to dinner she was already waiting for them. Oliver noticed she'd changed out of the sweatpants and hoodie she'd been wearing earlier. In its place was a khaki skirt and cream cardigan with orange detailing at the collar. She had on chocolate brown leather boots that went up to just below her knees.

Roger noticed her change, too, and said, "Are you cruising the dining hall or something?"

She self-consciously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't," Roger said with a grin, shaking his head.

"It's nice to see you again, Oliver," she said, flashing him a congenial smile as they stepped into the elevator. "Roger hasn't forced his comic books on you yet, has he?"

"No, not yet."

"I told him to wait at least a week. But he usually doesn't have that much restraint."

"You make me sound crazy," Roger said unhappily. "I just like sharing my passions with others."

Felicity snorted, walking out of the elevator after the doors slid open. The dining hall was just down the hallway, and already a line snaked around the room, co-eds anxiously waiting to swipe their card and eat. They got in line and Felicity and Roger continued their banter, Oliver listening and nodding when appropriate. He sort of liked hearing them argue. It reminded him of how he was with his sister Thea.

It was when they edged forward that he began to feel the looks. Disappointment spread in his chest. It had only been a few hours and already he'd been discovered. He glanced around furtively and caught the onlookers. It was a group of girls and they looked away quickly when they saw they were caught. A few of them giggled, and he heard one say, "Remind me to chat up zip-up boy later."

He glanced down at his zip-up sweater. Huh. Maybe he'd read that scene wrong.

The rest of the waiting was uneventful, and before Oliver knew it he was facing an absolute cornucopia of food. He'd grown up with basically anything he could have wanted, but it had never all been in one place. Here, there was every dinner item imaginable at his fingertips. He grabbed a bit of everything, crowding his plate to the point of disarray.

Felicity was already seated at a back table with a tray that showed much more restraint than his. It only held a plate of pasta and small brownie with rainbow sprinkles. Her eyes widened when she took in his tray.

"Wow. So, you took the all-you-can-eat pretty seriously."

"I might have gone a bit overboard."

"No such thing, man," Roger said, settling next to him with a tray just as loaded – if not more – than Oliver's. He also had a bowl filled high with ice cream.

"That's so going to melt by the time you eat it," Felicity pointed out.

Roger held up his spoon. "Not if I eat it first."

Felicity laughed, and then turned her attention to Oliver. "So, Oliver, tell me about yourself."

He was mid-chew, and grateful for it, as he hadn't exactly pinned down his backstory yet.

"I'm from Starling City," he said. "My family runs a small business there."

"What type of business?" she asked, taking a dainty bite of her pasta.

"Oh, you know, just the normal type."

"What's the name? Maybe I've heard of it."

Having no idea what to call his family's fake business – as opposed to their real one – he glanced around frantically and his eyes fell on someone's water bottle, a large sticker for the Riviera Boating Company wrapped around it.

"Riviera Investments," he said. Thinking that she might look into it, he quickly added, "It's a new startup. They're just in the beginning stages of it, actually, but they're really happy. What about you?"

"She has a good backstory," Roger chimed in. "It's the stuff Lifetime movies are made of."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "It's not that good. I'm from Las Vegas originally. My mom waitressed at casinos when I was growing up. I had a lot of neighbors watching over me, because her hours were pretty all over the place. They made sure I had dinner and did my homework. Anyway, my mom worked on getting her GED over the course of a few years – it was hard with her working so much – but she did eventually get it. She booked a standard 9-5 waitressing job at a local restaurant, and then worked her way up to manager."

"That's amazing," Oliver said.

"I owe everything to her," Felicity said, pushing the last few bites of pasta around her plate. "She worked her butt off so I could be here."

"What about your dad?"

"He's not in the picture," she said crisply, eyes trained on her tray. "He left when I was two. I haven't heard from him since."

Oliver felt that maybe he shouldn't have asked about her dad, but she seemed fine enough with it afterwards. She picked up her brownie and took a bite.

"How is that?" Roger asked her. "I was thinking of going and getting one."

"It's not too bad," she said after she swallowed.

He planted his hands down on the table and stood. "Alright, I'm getting one. You want one, Oliver?"

"I'm good, thanks."

Felicity watched Roger walk off toward the desserts and murmured, "He is going to be so sick tonight."

* * *

The night ended without much fanfare. Dinner turned into a long affair as Roger went back to try just about everything in the dining hall. Oliver couldn't finish half of his tray, and watched in wonder as Roger packed away an arguably impossible amount of food. It did prove to be too much, though, as Roger trailed after Felicity and Oliver to the elevators, hand resting on his stomach.

"Is death by dining hall a thing?" he said, catching up with them at the elevator bank. "Because I think I'm experiencing it."

"Drink some ginger ale when you get back to your room. I stocked some in the back of the mini fridge," she told him.

"It was an impressive showing," Oliver said, by way of condolence. "Many lesser men would have stopped at that second bowl of ice cream."

Roger winced. "Please don't say ice cream."

One of the elevators opened and they stepped in, Oliver pressing both his and Felicity's floor. His and Roger's stop was first, and the doors slid open after a few moments. Roger headed right out, going in the direction of their room. Oliver went to follow when Felicity grabbed his arm. He turned back toward her, his leg blocking the elevator door from closing.

"What I told you at dinner, can we just keep that between ourselves?" she asked.

"About your family?"

She nodded. "I told you because you're Roger's roommate. I just…I don't want be known as the charity case, you know? I want to be known for, well, me. Not where I came from."

He understood that more than she could even know.

"I won't tell anyone."

She smiled slightly, ducking her chin into her chest. "Thanks. Well, um, you better get back to Roger. He has a stash of Twizzlers behind the books on his desk. Don't let him get into them unless you want to smell vomit all night."

Oliver winced. "I better go check on that. Goodnight, Felicity."

He stepped back and as the doors closed she said, "Goodnight, Oliver."


	2. Chapter 2

Felicity wanted to go to MIT for as long as she could remember. Most little girls had pictures of actors or boy bands on their bedroom walls, but Felicity had an MIT flag and torn pages from the MIT brochure she'd picked up after she'd passed through the campus during a family vacation. It almost felt like a personal rite of passage when she sent in the application, and it was an absolute dream when her acceptance letter came in the mail. For years she'd fallen asleep to the halcyon image of that acceptance letter, and now it was reality.

Roger getting in was an added bonus. Not only would she get to live her dream, but she'd get to do it with her best friend. For all the years she'd spent dreaming about MIT and imagining herself there, the first day was nothing like she'd imagined. She thought she'd be taking MIT by storm. She knew the brochures by heart, and she'd read up on her professors and came up with the perfect small talk topics for after class when she introduced herself to them and proved, yet again, just how much she belonged there.

Instead of the complete confidence she was certain she'd feel she was terrified. What if MIT didn't live up to her dreams? What if she didn't live up to them? Sure, she was smart, but everyone just seemed _smarter_. She found herself wishing Roger could be with her for her first class. It would be nice to have something familiar with her.

This was very much on her mind when she walked into Statistics 101, her gaze quickly flitting over the class and the honing in on a nice secluded seat pressed against the back wall. She settled there, reaching into her bag and pulling out her computer.

The room was empty save for her and one girl seated smack dab in the center of the front row. She didn't have a computer with her – only a notebook – and Felicity noticed that the girl sat perfectly still, back straight and chin proud. She didn't tap her pen on her paper or even glance around. Felicity was about to question whether or not the girl was human when Oliver walked in. The girl's head shifted to the side just a bit, and Felicity noticed her grip on the pen tighten.

So she was human after all.

Oliver grinned when he spotted Felicity and he walked over, settling into the seat beside her. She could feel her nerves begin to settle.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said, reaching into his bag and pulling out his laptop.

She tilted her head to the side and mused, "Of all the classrooms in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine."

Oliver chuckled. "Did you just Bogart me?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"I have to say. I'm surprised by your choice of seat," Oliver said. "I would have pegged you for a front row type." The girl already seated in the front row turned her head ever so slightly. Felicity tilted her head toward the girl and Oliver quickly added, "Not that being a front row type is bad."

Felicity grinned. "I prefer a more passive seat in the classroom. When you're that close you get a lot of aggressive eye contact. Also, an occasional spray if the professor gets too excited about a given subject."

"You've really though this through."

"It's experience, actually," Felicity returned. "I used to be a front row sitter. But I learned. Now, you I would have pegged as a the back row type."

"And why do you say that?"

She glanced down at the book he'd pulled from his bag. "Well, for starters, you have the wrong book."

"What?" He glanced down at his book and then leaned over, looking at hers. Sure enough it was different.

"I think you got the advanced book," Felicity said, picking it up from his desk and flipping through it. "If you still have the receipt you can probably return it."

Oliver vaguely remembered stuffing it in the pocket of the jeans he'd been wearing when he bought his books. He'd have to check when he got back to the dorm.

"Don't worry, I'll let you look on with me," she said. "Although, I will warn you, if you're a mouth breather that offer is revoked."

With feigned solemnity he told her, "I swear to you that I am not a mouth breather."

"Good. I'm glad we settled that."

The rest of the class trickled in, and then the professor made his entrance, looking stereotypically collegiate in his tweed jacket and bowtie. He walked over to the chalk board – Felicity was surprised dry erase boards weren't installed in the building yet – and wrote his name: Professor Danforth.

"Good morning everyone," he said. "I am your professor, Richard Danforth, and this is Statistics 101. If your textbook title does not include that word, you are likely in the wrong classroom and may make your exits as you see fit."

Felicity smirked, glancing at Oliver and his incorrect book.

He rolled his eyes and mumbled, "You're going to do this all class, aren't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, watching Professor Danforth as he scrawled something else on the blackboard. "Yes, I am."

* * *

Oliver sat through two more classes – which he luckily had the correct books for – before he returned to his dorm room. Roger was stretched out on his bed, flipping through a comic book. He glanced up when Oliver walked in and gave him a sort of salute as a greeting.

"Is that a new one?" Oliver asked, gesturing toward the comic book.

"Yeah. Although the writers are messing up everything, per usual."

Oliver nodded, as though he understood his roommate's strife – which he didn't – and settled on the edge of his bed. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, groaning when he saw the home number flashing on the screen. Roger glanced up from his comic book.

"Bad call?"

"You could say that," Oliver muttered, standing up and heading out to the common area. He settled on one of the uncomfortable armchairs and then swiped into the call.

"Hello?"

"How much MIT swag have you bought me?" a high-pitched voice asked. "Because I expect at least a sweatshirt by Halloween."

Oliver grinned, relaxing.

"Is that any way to greet your brother?" he returned lightly.

"I prefer crewneck sweatshirts, by the way," she said. "But, if you already bought one with a hoodie I'll take it. Unless you still have the receipt, of course. Then you should return it."

"Thea, did you seriously just call to harangue me about MIT apparel?"

"Maybe," she said leadingly. "But, no. I didn't. I'm calling on behalf of mom and dad."

"And what do our lovely, disapproving parents have to say?" he asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Mom just wanted to make sure you're eating enough, getting sleep – you know, Mom stuff," Thea said.

Oliver could just imagine his mother fretting about what he was eating and whether or not he was having balanced nutrition. He wouldn't put it past her to send him a meal plan through one of those meals-on-wheels services, just to make sure he ate something green once in a blue moon.

"And Dad?"

"The same. Although, there was some grumbling about why you aren't taking any business classes. I believe the phrase 'head up his ass' was used."

"How poetic," Oliver grumbled.

"If it makes you feel any better, Mom did not actively engage in that part of the conversation. She excused herself to make a tension breaking cup of tea."

A few people passed in the hallway, their exuberant conversation contrasting starkly with what was becoming a rather drab exchange between Oliver and his sister.

"So, how else are things at home?" Oliver asked. As an aside he added, "You're not missing me too badly, are you?"

"No," she said promptly, causing him to chuckle. "Although Roy asks about you at least once per conversation."

Oliver grinned. Thea's boyfriend Roy and him had always gotten along well, even after a particularly scathing talk Oliver had with him at the start of his and Thea's relationship, which involved rather graphic illustrations of what would happen to him if he hurt his sister.

"But things are fine at home," Thea said. "I mean, it's different without you. We go through milk a lot slower."

Oliver snorted. "That's what you notice is different? The rate at which you go through milk?"

"You'd always flood your cereal bowl," she argued lightly. "So, we went through milk fast. Now, we easily can stretch it over a week. Especially now that Mom's switched to almond milk."

"She drinks almond milk now?" he asked in confusion. Last time he checked his mom wasn't lactose intolerant or vegan.

"Yep," Thea said. "All the women at the club have sworn off dairy. Apparently it's bad for the skin or something. Anyway, I give this one a month."

"That even seems a bit long," Oliver said. "Remember when they went on that chia seed kick? That only lasted for two weeks."

Over the years, Oliver and Thea had watched their mother be subjected to the club's preferential whims. The entire group would suddenly find themselves on – or off – a certain practice or food, and then just as suddenly – usually in a month or less – it'd be forgotten, the entire group trudging on to the next fad.

"Mom actually likes the almond milk, though," Thea said. "She hated the chia seeds. And for good reason. Sometimes I still feel like I have some stuck in my teeth."

Oliver had to agree with her there. The chia seeds were not one of his favorite club benders.

"How are things with you?" Thea asked.

"Good. I like it here.

"How's your roommate?"

Oliver thought about Roger and answered, "Different. I like him, though. Meeting people who are different from you is part of college, right?"

"Definitely. So, any nice potential sister-in-laws there? I do have to warn you, I will immediately veto anyone if they're a drama major. Do they even have that at MIT?"

Oliver laughed. "I don't think so. And, um, no, I haven't met anyone." His thoughts drifted to Felicity momentarily, but then Thea spoke again.

"That's surprising. Don't they know you're basically business royalty?"

Oliver swallowed hard. "About that…"

He told her what he'd done with using their mom's maiden name and how he hoped to keep his true identity a secret.

"So, you're basically lying to everyone," Thea said in disbelief. "Oliver, how can you not see this will blow up terribly in your face?"

"I'm not lying. I'm just…concealing a part of the truth."

"Yeah, you're concealing it with a fake last name," she pointed out.

He ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. "It's Mom's maiden name. So, technically I have some claim to it."

"What about your roommate? Does he at least know who you really are?"

"No. I told you, Thea. No one knows."

He heard a low whistle on the other side of the line and rolled his eyes. His sister's voice filled his ear again as she said, "Yeah, this is going to backfire in a major way. At least tell your roommate."

Oliver thought of Roger, and how if he told him he'd in turn have to tell Felicity. He could just imagine their reaction, and even if he wasn't completely certain things would change between them, he wasn't willing to risk that.

Almost as if she could read his mind and see that she was on it, Felicity walked down the hallway toward him, textbook clutched to her chest. She smiled at him and he gave her a small wave.

"Look, Thea, I have to go. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you, too," he said.

"And remember – crewneck!"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Bye Thea."

Felicity was standing in front of him when he hung up and she asked, "Who was that?"

"My sister Thea," he said. "She wanted to check up on how much MIT apparel I was stockpiling for her."

Felicity laughed. "I can see she has her priorities straight."

"Roger should be in his room," Oliver said, glancing back over his shoulder at their room. The door was wide open. "He's reading some comic book that he thinks the writers messed up."

"Roger always thinks the writers are messing things up," she returned easily. "But I'm actually here for you."

Oliver blinked in surprise. "You are?"

"I figured you might not get your statistics book today," she began, sitting beside him and holding the book she'd had clutched to her chest out toward him. He recognized it was the one front their class. "So, I am letting you borrow mine."

"Don't you need it?"

She shook her head. "I did all the readings for this week over the weekend. So, I'm good."

"Thanks," he said, taking the book from her. "This is really nice of you."

"You're welcome," she said with a small nod. She watched him flip open the book and hastily added, "Just be careful with it. Try not to drop it or, you know, shove it anywhere. Definitely no pen marks inside. I like to keep my books in pretty good shape."

Oliver nodded. "I will treat it well. So, how was the rest of your first day?"

"A blur," she said, leaning back in the seat so that her shoulder blades touched the stiff cushion. "To be honest, it's not what I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"I've dreamed of going to MIT for as long as I can remember," she said. "I just thought I'd feel more…comfortable. At home. I don't know, it's probably normal for the first day, but all I've really felt is a strong need to vomit."

"You seemed fine in statistics."

He was right. That was the one class where she'd actually felt moderately in control of herself.

"It was because of you," she told him.

"Because of me?" he said immediately.

"Yeah. Having someone that I knew – even minimally – made all the difference. It was like you were my anchor or something. You grounded me." She saw the look that flitted on his face at that and she quickly said, "And that is something really creepy to say to someone you've known for less than a week."

"No," he said immediately, reaching forward and touching her arm. "It's not creepy. Not at all. I'm just surprised."

It was the truth. He _was_ surprised, and oddly touched that his presence had such an impact on her. He could see where she was coming from, though. There was something about those first connections he'd made on campus, when everything was new and foreign, that felt particularly strong. They'd gone through something together – an initiation of sorts – and he remembered the loosening in his chest he'd felt when he walked in Statistics 101 and saw her seated in the classroom.

"Well, I better go," she said. "You have reading to get to."

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Thank you again for the book."

"You're welcome," she said with a succinct dip of her head. She stood up, clasping her hands behind her back. "Just bring it to class tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Okay. Well, I will see you then. Tomorrow."

He grinned slightly at her stilted formality. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He watched her walk from the small seated area, taking the long way back to the stairway past his dorm room, peaking her head in briefly to say hello to Roger. After a few moments, his eyes lingering on the spot where she'd disappeared around the corner, he glanced down at the book in his hand and sighed, opening up to the next day's chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

The first month at MIT came to a close without much fanfare. Oliver hadn't been kicked out – which was a fleeting thought during the first week or so – and him, Roger, and Felicity had formed a close, albeit unconventional threesome. They weren't exactly the sort of friends he would have chosen back at Starling Prep. Roger was nerdy almost to a fault, and sometimes Oliver swore he watched him sleep. And then there was Felicity. She was everything he would have avoided before. Stubborn. Mouthy. Beautiful, sure, but absolutely done with any and all of his bullshit.

He'd never been someone who was turned on by someone not wanting him. There were more than enough people who did want him, so why waste his time on the ones who didn't?

Not that he was spending time on Felicity now. They were strictly friends, and besides, she'd started dating this guy from her coding class and he was always lingering behind her with his ratty black hoodie and messy hair.

"Does he own a comb?" Roger had asked once. "Because, it looks like he doesn't."

Felicity, who had been working on something on her computer, off-handedly replied, "He owns a comb."

"Does he know how to use one then? Oliver and I would be happy to demonstrate."

So, things were perking along and Oliver thought that this college thing actually might be everything it was cracked up to be when Thea showed up outside his doorway with a large duffel bag and pillow.

"Thea? What are you doing here?"

"I ran away from home," Thea said succinctly, walking past him into the room. "Nice digs."

"You what?" Oliver stammered, staring at her stupidly as she walked over and started looking at the posters plastered above Roger's bed.

"It's weird seeing posters up on your walls," Thea said. "Your room at home is so plain and boring."

"Yeah, Thea-"

"But that's probably only because Mom and Dad are so plain and boring and won't let us put posters on our walls," Thea continued. "Don't want to ruin the designer wallpaper."

"Thea-"

"You know what, I like it here," she said, standing up and walking over to his side of the room. She ran her hand along the small desk and then over his dark green bedspread. "It has character. And you guys really did a lot with the space. I passed this other room on my way here. It doesn't look half as nice as yours."

"THEA!"

She looked over at him with wide eyes. "What?"

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here."

She sighed, sitting down on Roger's bed. "I told you. I ran away from home."

Oliver shook his head. "Yeah, but…you ran away from home? Why?"

"Why do you think," Thea said dismissively. "You know how Mom and Dad are. They're so stifling. It's like…they see the word through these special boring-people-lenses, and if you don't see the world _exactly_ the way they do, then you're immediately wrong. It's ridiculous."

"What happened?" Oliver asked knowingly.

"They found some pot in my room," Thea off-handedly. "And it wasn't even mine. Marshall left it there last time he snuck over."

Oliver wiped tiredly at his eyes. "Please don't tell me you told them that."

"Of course I did."

"Thea," Oliver said in a tight voice. "You don't explain away one infraction by telling them about another."

"Whatever. Maybe if they weren't so freaking uptight they would realize…"

Oliver's phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, reading the text as Thea continued to rail on about the elder Queens. The text was from Felicity, and it told him that Roger and she were on their way up to his room. They'd planned to grab some frozen yogurt that afternoon, and Felicity and Roger were later than expected.

"…it's not like pot is even that bad," Thea continued. "It's practically organic. And-"

"Thea," Oliver said sharply. "I need you to stop talking right now."

"What has your panties in a wad?" Thea returned irritably. "I'm the one who totally had her rights violated."

Oliver very much wanted to refute that, but there were more pressing issues to address. "Look, you can stay here." Her eyes brightened. "For _tonight_. But, my roommate and his friend are going to be up here soon and remember what I told you before about not telling them I'm a Queen…"

"You still haven't told them?"

"No."

"It's been a month. Oliver, you seriously need to tell them."

He glanced at his phone, quickly trying to figure out how quickly Roger and Felicity would be at the room. It was a few minutes from the elevator bay to the room. Sometimes Roger got distracted by a vending machine. That added a few minutes. Either way, he didn't have much time.

"Please, just don't say anything."

"I can't believe you're still lying to them," she said, shaking her head.

"I'm not lying," he said promptly. "I'm just…withholding a small truth. It's not a big deal."

"It's your true identity," Thea posited. "That seems like a big deal."

"The Queen name is _not_ my identity," Oliver returned sharply. "I'm my own person. I..." he trailed off, tightening his jaw. "Just, please. Don't mess this up."

"Fine," Thea sighed. "But you owe me."

"Whatever," he said dismissively.

"A new bag of pot," she finished with a devious grin.

"Not a chance," he deadpanned.

"Come on, this is a college campus. There's probably, like, a dealer around every corner."

"That's actually not the case," Oliver said. He heard Roger's voice outside the door and before it opened he quickly said, "Remember what I said."

Thea rolled her eyes and then Roger and Felicity walked in. Thea's eyes widened a bit when she saw the pile of candy in Roger's arms and Felicity's bright ensemble. The latter had taken to wearing colored tights and today was a particularly eye-catching combination. She was wearing a white belted dress with bright red tights. Her lips were cherry red and gold hoops dangled from her ears.

"There's a girl on my bed," Roger said, stopping suddenly.

Beside him, Felicity snorted, and said, "Words we all thought we'd never hear."

"I resent that," Roger deadpanned.

"Roger, Felicity, this is my sister Thea," Oliver explained.

Thea hopped up from the bed and extended her hand. "Thea Dearden," she said, overemphasizing the last name. "I'll be bunking with you for a while."

"No, she is only bunking for _one_ night," Oliver corrected. "One night, Thea."

"Oh, so you're just going to put your sister out on the street?" Thea said. "How Mother Teresa of you."

"Why exactly are you here?" Felicity asked gently.

"Because our parents are Nazis."

"They aren't Nazis," Oliver corrected carefully. "They're just a little…overbearing."

"Overbearing? Remember when they wouldn't let Nate Mitchum be my date for cotillion because he was, and I quote, garishly new money?"

Oliver shot her a look as Roger said, "Cotillion?"

At the exact same time Felicity went, "Garishly new money?"

"The only person I know who went to a cotillion is Ryan Atwood," Roger said slowly. "And he's fictional."

"Be happy you don't have to go to them," Thea told Roger. "They are boring with a capital B." She turned her attention to Felicity. "And yeah, you wouldn't believe how snobby old money is. It's actually pretty disgusting."

Felicity and Roger just stared at her.

"I'm going to grab a sweater from my room," Felicity said slowly. "I'll meet you guys downstairs in five."

Roger nodded.

She walked out, sending a general wave to the three of them, and Oliver told Roger, "I'm just going to talk to my sister outside for a moment. I'll just…"

He grabbed Thea's arm and dragged her outside to the hallway. After glancing around to see whether Felicity was loitering anywhere close, he hissed, "What the hell was that in there?"

"What? I didn't say anything about _you know what_."

"Cotillion. OLD MONEY?"

Thea gave him a 'what?' look and when he shook his head she said, "Well, how was I supposed to know all of that was off limits, too?"

"Hey, here's an idea, use your head."

"Here's another," Thea hissed. "Don't lie to your friends."

Oliver went to say something but then stopped, exhaling sharply. "You want to go to frozen yogurt with us?"

"No. Right now you're being a jerk and I don't like to be around jerks."

"Fine, you can just stay up here."

Thea snorted. "I don't think so. There's an entire campus to explore."

"Thea-"

"I made it all the way down here on my own without being kidnapped, Oliver," Thea said pointedly. "I think I can handle a few hours on the quad."

He didn't want her to go, but he also realized that there was a much larger battle between them on the horizon and it was wise to save up his energy and reproving for then.

"Keep your phone on at all times and be back here by five o'clock, okay? I'll take you to the dining hall."

"Sounds like a plan, big brother."

"But right now, we need to call mom and dad."

Thea shook her head. "No. That's not a thing we're doing."

"Thea, they probably have half of the Starling City police department scouring the streets for you. We need to call them."

Thea sighed. "Fine. But I'm not going home."

"Okay," he relented. That was an argument for later. "Let's just call them."

* * *

"So, your sister is really something," Roger said, scooping a large spoonful of vanilla frozen yogurt topped with every type of chocolate topping the place had on hand. "She's, um, spirited."

"That's one way to put it," Oliver said.

"She's not actually staying with us, is she?" Roger asked tentatively. "Because, I mean, that would be fine. But…our RA might get pissed."

"I told her she could stay tonight, but after that she's going home," Oliver said definitively.

Roger nodded, still looking distracted, and then asked, "Does she know that?"

"Why didn't you tell us you're rich?" Felicity asked, licking the back of her spoon.

"I don't know," Oliver said carefully. "It didn't really come up."

Felicity nodded. "So, you weren't keeping it from us?"

Oliver's face flushed. "No, I…of course I'm not."

"I know that Roger and I aren't from a lot of money," Felicity said. "But that doesn't mean you have to hide who you are. We like you. Money bags and all."

Oliver stared at her, thinking that somehow this entire thing had turned itself around and she was the one pseudo-apologizing. It was wrong – completely wrong – but instead of correcting her, telling them both that it had nothing to do with them and everything to do with him, he said, "Thanks."

They fell silent for a few moments as they ate their frozen yogurt. He didn't know what they were thinking, and he wished that he did. Felicity looked particularly introspective, and after a while he asked her, "What are you thinking about?"

"Cotillions," she said, surprising him.

"Seriously?"

She nodded. "I bet you were a popular date. All the girls wanted you."

He laughed, caught off guard. "Yeah, uh, kind of. I always went with my ex, though. We dated for most of high school."

"She was your Marissa Cooper," Roger said nostalgically.

Felicity gave him a look. "Roger, enough with the OC references. Seriously."

"If you mean she made those four years a living hell, yeah."

Roger nodded solemnly. "Definitely your Marissa Cooper."

Oliver laughed, pushing his now empty cup of frozen yogurt away from him.

"Anyway, Thea was right. Cotillions are pretty boring. The food is good, though."

"That's such a rich person thing to say," Felicity teased.

"Ha ha. Very funny," Oliver returned drily.

"I try."

"So, where's coding class guy?" Oliver asked, hoping to avoid any more prying into his privileged life. "He's usually one step behind you."

"Oh, we broke up," she said simply.

"And the entire world rejoiced," Roger said.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked. He'd never liked the guy much, but he seemed nice enough. And Felicity seemed to like him.

"Yeah. I'm the one who broke up with him, actually. He got sort of competitive about our coding. And, I was starting to think that sweatshirt was the only one he owned."

Oliver nodded knowingly. "Roger and I had a bet about that, actually."

"I guess now we'll never know," Roger said.

"Anyway, it's fine," Felicity said. "I'm not really a relationship girl, anyway. I like my independence."

"That's the spirit."

"Besides, now I don't have to shave every day."

"Okay, that went too far," Roger said, nose scrunched. "There is no talk of shaving in front of the frozen yogurt."

Felicity snorted. "The frozen yogurt has ears?"

"Yes," Roger held stubbornly. "And it is very delicate. So, censor yourself, please."

Felicity smirked, exchanging a look with Oliver. She leaned in toward Roger's still half-full yogurt cup and said, "I'm very sorry, delicate frozen yogurt. I promise you it won't happen again."

* * *

Thea was ten minutes late getting back to the dorm room, and Oliver didn't think anything of it. Even at thirty minutes he held back concern. Thea never was good with schedules – she was notoriously late for everything – but when she was an hour late, even Oliver with all his knowledge of Thea and her, well, Thea-ness, was concerned.

"Her phone's dead," Oliver said, clicking out of the phone angrily. "Of course her phone is dead."

"Maybe she just got lost."

"She does have the worst sense of direction," Oliver thought aloud. "And a total lack of stranger danger. We need to find her now."

"Relax, we'll find her," Roger said. "Just…let me call Felicity. She's good in a crisis."

Oliver nodded, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"My dog went missing when we were little and she jumped right into action. It turned out he was hit by a car, but we did end up finding him on the side of the road."

Oliver stared at him.

"And that's probably not the story to tell you right now."

"No. No, it's not."

"I'll just…" he held up his phone and then dialed quickly, pressing the phone to his ear. Oliver stood up, beginning to pace. She'd been pretty upset when she left. Moira and Robert Queen hadn't been the happiest when they'd heard what she'd done. The relief at their daughter being okay spiraled fairly quickly into anger and Thea had answered in kind. She'd thrown all sorts of curse words at them – some that Oliver didn't even recognize.

"She's on her way," Roger said.

"Good."

"I'm sure Thea's fine," Roger said, sounding less certain that he'd intended. He cleared his throat. "Really, though. I'm sure of it. Really?"

"You said that last one like a question," Oliver told him.

"Yeah, I know. I'm trying. This is why we need Felicity."

She turned up a few minutes later and Oliver saw immediately why she was good in a crisis. She'd brought a campus map with her and spread it on Oliver's bed.

"Alright, so, mark all the places a 16 year old on the loose would want to go to," Felicity said. "Think the party places. Cafes. Anywhere with good coffee."

"Thea doesn't drink coffee."

"Well, that's good to know," Felicity said. "That takes out at least four potential places."

They went to work, circling the different places that Thea could be. After they circled all the ones they could think of they headed out to campus to find her. The frat houses were a bust, as were the few cafes that Oliver thought she'd head to for dinner. They checked out the student union, quad, and even the library when he started getting desperate.

"I don't know where else to look," Oliver said, clenching his hands into fists. "I mean, we looked everywhere. Where the hell is she?"

"Maybe she went back to the room?" Roger tried. "She could be waiting for you out there right now."

Oliver considered that, and just when he was about to say something Felicity called out for them a few steps back. Roger and Oliver walked over to her. She was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking down at something on her phone.

"What is it?" Oliver asked.

"I was seeing if I could find anything on Facebook and then I saw this."

She held out her phone to Oliver. There was a picture on the screen with two grinning girls with their arms wrapped around each other. He didn't recognize either of them, but he did recognize his sister in the background.

"Do you know where this is?" Oliver asked.

"I just so happen to," Felicity said with a grin. "See that tall building through the window in the back? That's Krannert Hall. The apartment has to be on the next street over. The place looks pretty crowded, so I think at this point we just follow the loud thumping music."

"Let's go," Oliver said.

* * *

The party ended up being some offshoot fraternity party that Thea sweet talked herself into. Recognizing how much trouble she was in for sneaking off, she put up minimal resistance when Oliver told her to leave with him. She did insist, however, on saying goodbye to someone named Terrence.

"Who the hell is Terrence?" Oliver said.

"Only the guy throwing the party. Jeez."

"Let's just go."

"He invited me, Oliver. Leaving without saying goodbye would be rude."

Oliver's eyes widened and he retorted, "Oh, like telling your brother you'd be back by five and running off to a fraternity party instead so he thinks you're dead, maimed, or worse?"

"Don't be so dramatic," she said. "Besides, what's worse than being dead?"

"Human trafficked," Felicity piped in. Oliver gave her a look and she went, "What? She asked."

"We're leaving. Now. You can send Terrence a fruit basket or something."

Thea left with him – albeit grudgingly – and they all went to the dining hall for dinner. Thea was pointedly quiet while Felicity and Roger talked more to make up for the silence. By the time they got back to the dorm room Oliver's ears were ringing from the sheer chatter. Roger went to the library to study, leaving Oliver and Thea by themselves.

"Are you going to tell me what all of this was about?" Oliver asked. "Because I know it's not just that you got reamed out by mom and dad. Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is going on."

"You ran away from home. And then you basically ran away from here. Something's not right."

Thea shrugged, bringing her knees to her chest.

"If you don't tell me I'll just keep asking," Oliver reminded her. "I could do this all day. All night. All very, very early morning."

That brought him a sliver of a smirk.

"It's nothing. It's just…I miss you."

"So that's why you ran to – what was his name – _Terrence_ ' _s_ party. By the way, I still don't totally buy that that was his actual name."

Thea rolled her eyes. "Why would he give me a fake name?"

"There are a lot of reasons he'd give you a fake name."

"Whatever," Thea said. "I ran off because…I don't know…I felt like you didn't want me here. I told you how awful things were at home, and it's like you didn't care."

"Of course I care," Oliver said. "But, come on Thea, it's not like Mom and Dad are keeping you captive. They're doing what they think is best."

"Yeah, what _they_ think is best. It's always what they think. Not what I think."

"They're overbearing," he admitted. "I won't deny that. But, this isn't news."

Thea picked at her feet. "But you were always there before."

"What?"

"They were always like that but you were there with me. It made it better."

"Thea-"

"It's stupid. I know. But, everything was better when you were home. They had two people to obsess over. Now, all of their attention is on me, and…and I feel like I don't live up to the person they want me to be. I can't."

"So you ran away," he said.

"It seemed better than staying there. I know I can't stay here with you. I know that. But I thought if I could just have a few days with you it would seem better."

Oliver was quiet for a moment. "You really missed me?"

Thea grinned a bit. "Yeah, you big goober. That's what I said."

He returned her smile. "Look, we both know I can't do anything about Mom and Dad. But I can see you more. How about you come up here once a month."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Once a month you can get away from everything in Starling City and visit me. How does that sound?"

In an instant Thea was off the ground and she threw her arms around her brother's shoulders.

"That sounds amazing! Thank you! Are you sure it's not too much for you?"

"If it means you don't randomly run away from home, it's definitely not too much. Not even close."

"Thank you, Ollie."

He pulled her into him again, kissing the side of her head. "You're welcome, Thea. And just for the record, you're wrong. Whatever Mom and Dad envision for you – you can be that. You can be even more."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apparently have no chill with this story. Hope you enjoy!

Oliver walked up to Felicity’s dorm room, armed with the usual arsenal of junk food and an added bottle of Mountain Dew that Roger specifically requested during Oliver’s walk across campus from their building to Felicity’s. Over the semester, they set up a Friday night tradition of watching a movie, either doing it at Felicity’s dorm or Oliver and Roger’s. For all his partying past – and there was a lot of that back at Starling Prep – Oliver liked the simplicity of their routine. He spent most of his time before college surrounded by people, and he found now that he preferred something smaller. He knocked on the door, and when Roger opened it, he gratefully took the bottle of Mountain Dew and said, “I’m going to need this tonight.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever had a night that made me need Mountain Dew,” Oliver mused. He caught sight of Felicity, who was tightening her ponytail in front of the mirror, and remarked, “You’re dressed up for movie night.”

And, she really was. Usually she wore some sort of legging and sweatshirt for their Friday night tradition, but tonight, she wore a pink dress, the hemline hitting just high enough for Oliver’s mind to wander. 

“That’s because we’re not having a movie night,” Felicity said, turning around to face him. He saw then that her lips matched her dress. “ _We_ are going to a party.”

“That’s why I needed the Mountain Dew,” Roger filled in, already drinking it straight from the bottle. “It’s what I drink in times of stress.”

“Why exactly are we going to a party?” Oliver asked tightly, not looking forward to a night of drunken yelling and too-loud-music. Besides, he was really looking forward to their movie choice.

“Because, we’ve been here almost three months now and we haven’t gone to a single one,” Felicity said. “It’s a college experience that we are completely missing out on.”

“Yeah, I went to enough parties in high school,” Oliver said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t feel like I’m missing out on too much here.”

“Fine, then you don’t have to come with,” she returned simply. 

“Can I get out of it, too?” Roger asked hopefully. 

“Sure. You both can just stay here and watch a lame movie-“

“ _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ is not a lame movie!” Roger interjected loudly.

“You’re not going to a party by yourself,” Oliver said, quietly adding that she definitely couldn’t in that dress.

“No offense, Oliver, but you don’t dictate what I can and cannot do,” Felicity said. “Besides, I’m not going alone. Travis invited me.”

“Who the hell is Travis?” Roger asked.

“He’s a guy I know in my Russian literature class. Anyway, he told me about the party and said maybe he’d see me there. So, really, you guys can stay here. I’m fine.”

“I’ll go,” Oliver said suddenly.

“You will?” Felicity asked with an arched eye brow. “What happened to the whole – I went to enough parties in high school?”

“I changed my mind,” he said. “Besides, how can I miss the chance to meet _Travis_?”

“Play nice,” she returned in a lilting voice. 

“Well, if you’re both going, then I’m going,” Roger said morosely, taking another swig of Mountain Dew. “I hate this already.”

“Then it’s decided,” she said. “I just need to pick a pair of earrings and then we can go.”

As Felicity rifled through a leather pouch of jewelry, Oliver asked, “Why this sudden emphasis on college experiences? I thought we were doing it pretty well before.”

Felicity fastened on a pair of dangly golden earrings. “I don’t want to look back and feel like I missed out on anything.”

“You really think a party will be one of those things?”

“Maybe,” Felicity said. “You don’t really know until you try it, do you?”

“But, if you don’t try it how do you know you’re missing out?”

Roger perked up at that and said, “That is a very good point. You know what you never regret? A night spent with Harrison Ford.”

“Look, I told you two you don’t have to go,” Felicity said. “But, I’m going to this party, with or without you.”

Oliver took a deep breath. “Well, then we better get going.”

* * *

The party ended up at one of the fraternity houses, Oliver hearing the thumping music as they turned the corner onto fraternity row. He could easily identify the house, co-eds already spilling out onto the front lawn due to the poorly kept secret that the houses were insulated from campus police. He noticed that Felicity had tensed slightly, and he said, “You know, we can turn back.”

“We’re turning back?” Roger asked hopefully. 

“No, we are not,” Felicity said. “College experience, remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” Oliver said. Adding under his breath, “Because you’ve said it 800 times.”

“I heard that,” Felicity said without looking at hm. “Oh, I think I see Travis.” She went to wave but then stopped when he began to make out with a diminutive redhead. “And never mind.”

“That was a short-lived romance,” Roger deadpanned.

“It was never a romance,” Felicity said dismissively. “You two are the one who incorrectly connected those dots. Anyway, let’s get going.”

“Let me guess, there are college experiences to be had?” Oliver asked with a slight grin.

She looked over at him, mirroring his grin, and said, “Mock all you want, but I bet you by the end of this you’re going to say you had a good time.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” he returned.

The two held each other’s gaze for a moment, and Roger interjected, “I am not. You know, in case you wanted my input.”

“Of course we do, Roger,” Felicity said, linking her arm with his. “But, you’ll have a good time. I promise.”

They went into the house, the music loud and overbearing. The house smelled like stale beer and some air freshener that didn’t quite live up to its intended purpose. A lot of people like Travis must have shared the party during their classes, because it felt like half the campus was there. Felicity moved her way through the crowd, Oliver noticing her drawing looks from some guys as she passed. They came to a halt, the crowd too dense to get through, and Felicity turned toward him with a half-grin as she said, “At least we’re not claustrophobic.” She glanced behind Oliver and said, “Wait, where’s Roger?”

Oliver craned his neck and spotted their friend a few people back. He had not been as successful at parting the crowd, and as he joined them, he heard Roger going, “Excuse me. Sorry, excuse…Can you just…Okay, MOVE.” The group of girls directly behind Oliver and Felicity looked at Roger with surprise and he said, “I tried doing it the nice way, but you weren’t listening!”

“Whatever, freak,” one of them said, moving aside.

“Really nice group of people at this thing,” Roger said irritably. “Top notch.” 

“I know it’s a lot, but just give it a chance,” Felicity said. 

Oliver could see just how much she wanted this to work, and while he didn’t really get it, he figured it couldn’t hurt to give it a chance, as she said, so he craned his neck looking for a little bit of space, and in doing so, spotted the kitchen where they could get some drinks.

“Follow me,” he said. 

With a little bit of effort, they made it to the kitchen where the real star of the party was – the keg. Oliver filled them each a cup of beer and when it was time to fill his own, he saw the keg needed to be pumped again. He encountered some technical difficulties, but after a few minutes he got the keg working again. In the meantime, the kitchen had begun to get more crowded, and when he turned around, a guy was talking with Felicity. He watched Roger try to say something and the guy routinely ignored him. Felicity caught his gaze and she waved at him with a tight grin.

Oliver walked over and came to stand next to Felicity. He went to say something when she slipped her arm around his waist and said, “It took you long enough, babe.”

Oliver cleared his throat, surprised by the move, and said, “Yeah, sorry about that. There were keg difficulties.”

“You’re with him?” the guy asked, gesturing to Oliver.

Felicity nodded, jumping a bit when Oliver slid his arm around her waist, his palm settling on the curve of her waist. “Yep.”

“Okay then. Well, I’ll just…” he turned around quickly, seeking out someone new to try to take home. Felicity let out a relieved exhale, covering Oliver’s hand with her own before slipping out of his grip.

“Thank you for that. He was difficult to shake.”

“Undeterred by my presence, I might add,” Roger said. Oliver smirked and gave his roommate a conciliatory shoulder squeeze. 

“So, this is a party,” Felicity said, rocking a bit on her heels. “Huh.”

“Is it everything you hoped for?” Oliver asked.

“It’s something.” She looked around and said, “I wish there was food.”

“That usually happens after,” Oliver said.

“Good to know. Then maybe we should – hey – are those brownies over there?”

Oliver went to say something, but she had already launched herself toward a tray of brownies on the kitchen counter. Oliver had suspicions for why these particular brownies were at a frat party, and before he could warn Felicity, she had already taken a large bite. 

“How are they?” a girl next to her asked.

“It’s good,” Felicity said, taking another bite. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was and this brownie was hitting the exact right spot.

“It was my first time making them so I didn’t know if I put in too much.”

Felicity swallowed and asked, “Too much of what?”

“Pot.”

Felicity looked down at her half-eaten brownie. “Oh boy.”

“If it’s anything like it was when I smoked it, you’re about to have a good night,” the girl said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Enjoy.”

Felicity walked slowly back to Oliver and Roger, and said, “So, the brownies have pot in them.”

“Yeah, I was going to warn you about that,” Oliver said.

“Is it warm in here?” Felicity said, beginning to rub at the back of her neck.

Oliver grinned slightly, thinking that a high Felicity may be one of more unexpected ways this night could have gone, and said, “No, it’s not.”

“Really? Because, it’s starting to feel really warm. Like, Vegas in the middle of July warm.”

“That’s a really specific reference,” Oliver mused. It was then that he noticed a dusting of red on her chest. It didn’t look like a flush. They were more like small pinpricks, and before his mind went to what they were, Felicity darted away from them, knocking messily into a group of people as she rushed to find some sort of exit. She somehow found a side door and she burst into the cool night air, taking gasping breaths that seemed to be shorter with each inhale.

Oliver and Roger followed, the former taking a hold of her arm and saying, “Hey, are you okay?”

“I can’t breathe,” Felicity said, leaning forward with her hands braced on her thighs. 

“Shit, Felicity, were there walnuts in those brownies?” Roger said suddenly.

“I don’t think so,” Felicity said weakly. “Maybe? I should take something. I can just-“ she straightened suddenly, realizing she didn’t have her purse. 

“What is it?” Oliver asked.

“I left my purse in the kitchen. My EpiPen is in there and –“

Oliver set off back into the house without another word and, as quickly as he could, he was back outside. Felicity was sitting on the ground, her breath coming out in short and sharp spurts. Oliver handed her the EpiPen, but it was quickly apparent that her hands were too shaky to administer the shot. She handed it to Roger and said, “You need to do it.”

Roger was flustered, and said, “Okay, yes, how exactly do I…”

“I got it,” Oliver said, pulling out the applicator and then jamming it firmly against her thigh. He held it in place for the allotted three seconds and then pulled it away, tossing it on the ground. His nerves were pulled tight and he crouched in front of her, holding her shoulders as he watched her breathing grow slower and deeper.

“Oh, that feels good,” Felicity said, her hand on her chest, “I never knew how good breathing could feel.”

Oliver let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and he sat down next to Felicity, feeling the adrenaline run through him. Felicity rubbed at where he injected her with the EpiPen and said, “Well, I don’t feel the need to party ever again.”

“Thank God,” Roger said.

“Are you feeling better now?” Oliver asked her. “We can take you to the campus clinic.”

“No, I’m fine,” she said. “The EpiPen worked. Thank you for that, by the way. I bet you didn’t think your night would include sticking something in me.” Her eyes widened. “And by that something, I mean the EpiPen. Obviously. Because, what else would you be sticking in me?”

Oliver smirked. “It was no problem.”

“So, are we calling it a night?” Roger said. “Because, I gotta say, I only have one anaphylactic shock in me.”

“Yeah, home,” Felicity agreed. She began to stand up, Oliver helping. “Although, I wouldn’t say no to _Raiders of the Lost Ark_.”

Roger looked over at Oliver and asked, “What do you say?”

“I’m in.”

* * *

They all sat on the floor of her dorm room, leaning back against her bed with the movie playing on Felicity’s laptop. Felicity fell asleep only about twenty minutes into the movie, and when Roger noticed, he said, “Almost having your throat close up really tires you out.”

“Maybe we should go?” Oliver said in a low voice, trying not to not wake her.

Roger glanced over at the spare bed in the room – Felicity was one of the rare freshman who ended up without a roommate – and said, “I was actually thinking of staying here tonight. Just in case she needs anything. You don’t have to stay, though.”

Felicity shifted, dropping her head onto Oliver’s shoulder. Roger noted the way Oliver looked down at her tenderly and said, “If you’re staying, she keeps extra blankets in her closet.”

Oliver nodded. “Thanks.”

* * *

The next morning, Felicity woke up to find Roger in her spare bed and Oliver on the floor between them. She remembered last night. She had been so intent on having the sort of college experience that everyone talked about and it had literally ended with her almost in the hospital. She felt a bit foolish about it all now. She didn’t need to go to parties or do whatever everyone else was doing to have a valuable college experience. Oliver shifted on the floor, turning onto his side toward her. He was still asleep, the planes of his face smooth and relaxed. Behind him, Roger snored softly. Felicity closed her eyes, feeling remarkably content as she thought to herself that it seemed in chasing the traditional college experience, she had ended up with one uniquely her own.


	5. Chapter 5

Oliver, Felicity and Roger sat in the dining hall for breakfast, not talking much since no one had slept much the night before. It was finals season, which meant minimal sleep and maximal stress. Felicity opened up a packet of sugar for her coffee and yawned wide, absentmindedly pouring it into her bowl of cereal. 

“I don’t think I have ever been this tired,” she said. “Have you ever been this tired?”

“Once after a bender in Dubai,” Oliver returned without thinking.

“You know, sometimes I forget you’re rich,” Roger said. “And then you say something like that.”

Oliver shrugged, spreading some strawberry jelly on his piece of toast. Felicity had exited the conversation, her attention on the television screen behind her. Oliver hadn’t been paying much attention to what was playing on it – tuning out the newscaster’s drone – but then Felicity said, “Oh my God, that is so horrible.”

“What’s horrible?”

She pointed at the television and said, “See for yourself.”

He turned around, mouth going dry when he saw the headline streamed across the bottom of the screen.

**Real Estate** **Tycoon, Robert Queen, Presumed Dead After Boating Accident**

“We don’t have a lot of information about what happened, but it appears that the yacht that Mr. Queen was on experienced some sort of explosion mid-voyage,” the newscaster said. “As of now, all parties on the boat are presumed dead.”

Oliver stood suddenly, the words “all parties on the boat presumed dead” ringing in his ears, and he said, “I have to go.”

Both Roger and Felicity looked at him strangely, the latter asking, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have to take care of something.”

He left without his tray, immediately pulling his phone out of his pocket. He still had it on silent from when he was studying and he saw at least ten missed calls. He didn’t bother looking through his messages, though, and called Thea immediately. Relief filled his chest when she answered. Her voice was thick as she said, “Ollie. We’ve been trying to call you.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I had my phone on silent. I saw the news. I…” he trailed off, finding it difficult to ask his next question. Finally, after a long pause, he asked, “Is it true?”

He could hear the tears in her voice when she said, “Yes.”

“I’m coming home now,” Oliver said immediately. “Tell Mom I’ll get the first flight.”

Oliver walked quickly to his dorm, feeling as if he was in some sort of vacuum as he tore through campus. Everything was so normal around him, and yet personally, his entire world was imploding. He pulled his suitcase from the closet and threw anything within sight into it. He didn’t know if he had what he needed, but the movement and action felt good. It felt purposeful. His entire life had changed in a moment, but he had complete control of throwing this random grey t-shirt into his suitcase.

Roger came into the dorm, Felicity trailing behind him. Oliver didn’t look up and said, “I’m going to be heading home for a few weeks.”

“But, it’s finals,” Roger said.

“I know it’s finals,” Oliver said tightly. “But, I need to be home. My family needs me.”

“Oliver, what’s going on,” Felicity asked, stepping toward him. “Something clearly has happened.”

Oliver’s hands stilled. There was no reason in hiding it anymore. The Queen name was already splashed on the local news.

“Robert Queen is my father.”

“Oliver – “ Felicity began, but he cut her off with, “I know I lied to you. I wanted to make my own way here without the Queen name, and it just felt easier. Like there was less pressure to be something that I wasn’t.” Felicity tried to interject, but he kept talking. “I realize now how stupid that was. I know you guys are probably confused, or pissed, or whatever, but-“

“Oliver!” Felicity said more forcefully. He noticed then that she was right in front of him, her hand gripping his forearm. “I don’t care what your last name is.” She slid her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. “You are my friend and I am so sorry.”

“Do you need anything?” she asked, pulling away and sniffling. He could see that her eyes were glassy. He didn’t understand how she could be tearful over someone she never met, but then he realized it was for him.

“You’ll need a flight,” she said. “I can give you some of my miles! Although, on second thought, you’re super rich, so you probably don’t need those.”

“I already have a flight,” he said. “But, thank you.”

“Some snacks for the plane,” Roger said immediately, reaching behind his books and unearthing part of his Twizzler stash. “Here, take these.”

Oliver took the pack of candy, nodding gratefully. “Thanks, Roger.”

“I don’t really know what else to do,” Felicity said, blinking rapidly. “Is there anything we can do?”

Oliver shook his head. “No, but thank you. Really.” He reached forward and took her hand. “Thank you.”

Felicity nodded, blinking back tears. Roger, taking much of the same packing strategy as Oliver, grabbed a comic book off his nightstand and held it out to Oliver. “For the plane. It’s a good one.”

“I thought you said they messed everything up.”

“It’s better on the second read.”

Oliver took the comic and placed it on the top of his suitcase. He zipped it shut and his phone pinged, letting him know that his plane would be ready for take-off soon at the airport. He said goodbye to his friends, thinking how much he didn’t want to leave them and face what awaited him in Starling City. 

* * *

Moira Queen was a pillar of strength during her husband’s disappearance, and when she was told they recovered his body, she was no different. Stiff spine. Careful composure. It wasn’t until she was alone in her bedroom, door firmly locked, that she allowed herself to cry. Robert and that damn boat. She always hated it, but he insisted. Robert had a youthful exuberance every time he took it out on the water, and she could never bring herself to fully devoid him of that joy. And now, that joy took him away from them.

There was a knock on her bedroom door, and Moira wiped at her eyes and rose from her bed. She opened the door, relief flooding her chest when she saw her son in the doorway.

“Oliver,” she breathed out, wrapping her arms around him.

“I came as quickly as I could,” Oliver said. “Do we know anything else?”

Moira nodded, forcing her face into the mask of composure before she told her son that his father’s body was found in the ocean. Oliver took the news in stride, every bit his mother’s son with his stiff jaw and tight control.

“Does Thea know?” he asked.

Moira nodded. “I told her this afternoon and she’s been in her bedroom ever since. She says she doesn’t want to talk.”

“I’ll go check on her,” Oliver said. He knew that despite Thea’s issues with their parents, she had always been closer with Robert, who saw some degree of humor in her transgressions.

Moira reached forward and gently touched his cheek. “It’s good to have you home, Oliver.”

Oliver gave her a quick hug and then headed out to talk to his sister. Her door was closed, as it had been when he passed before, and when he knocked she said, “I don’t want to talk.”

“Speedy, it’s me,” he said. 

He heard some commotion in the room and then she opened the door, launching herself into his arms. 

“Ollie,” she said, arms wrapped so tight around his neck that it was almost hard to breathe. “Thank God you’re here.”

She pulled away, and he saw that her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. She dragged the back of her hand across her nose and said, “I don’t know how to do this, Ollie. How to be the person burying their dad.”

“I don’t either,” he said. “But, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

In the next week, the Queen family did just that. Together, they worked through the funeral arrangements, the days passing with a flurry of phone calls and dodging media interviews. The local newscasters did not subscribe to the family grieving privately, and after one particularly aggressive reporter was nearly taken down by Moira’s bodyguard, Oliver agreed to an interview to try to quiet the media frenzy. And in that, Oliver, who had tried to escape the Queen name, became its spokesperson.

“I saw your interview,” Tommy Merlyn said while visiting the Queen household one afternoon. “Dodgy tie choice.”

Oliver smirked. “What, you didn’t like the stripes?”

The old friends exchanged a relaxed grin and Tommy hugged him, saying, “I’m really sorry about your dad, man.”

“Thanks.”

“But, it’s good to have you back,” Tommy said. 

“Everyone keeps saying that. It’s not like I’ve moved away forever.”

“Well, you did move to the land of the nerds,” Tommy said, garnering a look from Oliver. “So, really, anything is possible.”

“Very funny.”

“So, how are you doing?”

Oliver shrugged. “I’m fine. I’ve just been trying to look out for my mom and Thea.”

“How are they?”

Oliver thought about how Thea barely spoke after their first exchange and he heard his mother crying in her room every night since he came home. 

“As well as can be expected,” Oliver finally said.

Tommy nodded, understanding without Oliver having to say more. He lost his own mother a few years before, and he knew the toll it took on a family.

“Well, if you need me, you know where to find me,” Tommy said. 

* * *

The day of the funeral was a blur, Oliver accepting condolences from so many people that the words seemed to have lost any sort of meaning. The next person could wish him happy birthday and he would still blindly shake their hand and say, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

The monotony was broken somewhat when the Lances arrived. Laurel gave him a close hug and said, “Ollie, I am sorry.”

“Thank you, Laurel.”

His gaze followed her as she moved down the line to give her condolences to his mother, but then something made him look over at the entrance of the room, a jolt of surprise going through him when he saw Roger. He was dressed in a black suit that Oliver knew for a fact he only had in his wardrobe for cosplay purposes. (Roger had tried explained cosplay to Oliver one night not long after they moved onto campus. Oliver still didn’t get it.) Roger looked over his shoulder and then Felicity stepped forward. She was dressed in a simple black dress with her hair swept into a demure low ponytail. Oliver watched her push her glasses further up on the bridge of her nose, her eyes scanning the room until they found him. He noticed that they didn’t join the line of well-wishers, instead hanging in the back. Once he had an opportunity, Oliver walked back toward them.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. It was still the middle of finals, and while his father’s death was a pretty good reason for his exams to be postponed, he didn’t think they would be afforded the same latitude.

“We wanted to pay our respects,” Roger said.

“And see how you were doing,” Felicity said. “But you look good. I mean, you seem like you’re doing good. Not that you _look_ good. Although, you do. Look good. And, wow, _why_ am I still talking?”

“She gets this way at funerals,” Roger supplied. 

“Sorry,” Felicity said in a small voice.

“Don’t you guys have finals?” Oliver asked. “I really appreciate you being here, but if you’re going to be missing anything-“

“We’re not,” Roger said. “My last final was yesterday.”

“And I only have a paper to finish which I can just as easily do from our motel room as my dorm room. So, we’re good.”

Oliver shook his head, smiling slightly. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“We’re your friends, Oliver,” Felicity said. “By this point, you’re pretty much stuck with us.”

Oliver felt his mother’s gaze on him and he said, “I should probably go back by my family.”

“Go,” Felicity said immediately, touching his arm. 

He nodded, heading back to his mother as he absentmindedly rubbed at his arm. When he stopped next to Moira, she asked, “Who were those two you were talking with?”

“Friends from school.”

“They came all the way out here?” Moira asked with surprise. “They must be good friends.”

“Yeah,” Oliver said, glancing back at them. “They are.”

* * *

Laurel watched Oliver from across the room, recognizing the façade he wore as he greeted the various well-wishers. He had a moment alone, and she went to join him, when a bespectacled blonde appeared at his side, her hand resting on his shoulder. There was a clear familiarity between them and Laurel watched the pair with interest.

“This is a very nice funeral,” Felicity told Oliver. “Is that a weird thing to say? That’s probably a weird thing to say.”

“It’s not a weird thing to say. And thank you.”

Felicity looked around the room, which only seemed to have grown more crowded over the ensuing hours, and said, “There sure are a lot of people here to pay their respects.”

Oliver nodded, not responding, and Felicity gingerly asked, “Oliver, are you okay?”

It was a question he had been asked over and over throughout the day, and he was tired of putting on a show, so he snapped, “No, I’m not. I just buried my father, Felicity. So, no. I’m not okay. And I’m really sick of being asked that question about eight hundred times a day.”

“I’m sorry,” she said immediately, cheeks flushed. “That was a dumb question. Of course, you’re not okay. I’ll just give you some space.”

She went to walk away when he grabbed her hand. “Felicity, wait. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Felicity said in a small voice. “I’m pretty sure being at your father’s funeral gives you a free pass.”

“I don’t want a free pass. I was rude and I’m sorry.”

She nodded and said, “Apology accepted.” After a pause she added, “You know it’s okay, though, right?”

“To not be okay?” he asked with a wane grin.

“No, to be angry about it all. What you’re going through…it’s not something anyone should have to.”

Oliver took a deep breath and then looked down, realizing he was still holding her hand. He gave it a quick squeeze and said, “I’m really glad you’re here, Felicity.”

Felicity smiled slightly. “I’m really glad I’m here, too.”

Across the room, Laurel grabbed onto Tommy as he walked past her and said, “Hey, Tommy, do you know who that girl is talking with Oliver?”

Tommy looked over to where Oliver was and shook his head. “No idea.”


	6. Chapter 6

After the funeral, Oliver asked that Felicity and Roger stay in two of the spare rooms at his house rather than going back to the motel. Both tried to object, but any such objections were effectively squelched when Moira Queen insisted they stay, saying, “You came all the way out here for Oliver. It’s the least we can do.”

Oliver set them up in their rooms, letting them know that he was just down the hall if they needed anything. He additionally pointed out that the kitchen was downstairs, directing the fact that there was a well-stocked refrigerator of ice cream to Felicity.

“I don’t foresee any middle of the night ice cream needs, but thank you.”

“Well, if you need it, it’s there.”

Felicity set up her laptop in her room and worked on finishing up her paper, the hours passing quickly as she worked her way through the prompt. She was one edit away from freedom when her stomach began to rumble. 

“A little bit of ice cream couldn’t hurt,” she said to herself, stretching her back before hopping off her bed and quietly heading out of the room. She went down the stairs and followed the cavernous hallway down to the kitchen. It was hard to believe that Oliver grew up in a place like this. The plush carpeting and mahogany trim were a far cry from the one-bedroom apartment she grew up in.

Oliver hadn’t been lying about the freezer being well-stocked with ice cream. There were plenty of tantalizing flavors, but she settled on a pint of mint chip, knowing it would never fail her. She was searching for a bowl when Oliver said behind her, “You can just eat it from the carton. We both know you’re going to finish it.”

Felicity grinned slightly glanced over her shoulder at him. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Oliver shook his head. “I was already up.”

“Do you want a spoon, too?”

He shrugged. “Why not.”

They settled on the kitchen counter, pint of mint chip ice cream between them, and he asked, “How is the paper writing going?”

It felt like such a silly question after the day they had, but she knew he was trying for some semblance of normal, so she played along and said, “Only one edit left before I am officially finished with my first semester of college.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“So, are you heading back to campus after this or straight to Vegas?”

“Back to campus,” Felicity said. “I’m actually not going home for break.”

“You’re not?” he asked with surprise.

“They were looking for people to work the library over break.”

“Won’t you miss going home?”

“Sure,” Felicity said, digging into the pint of ice cream with her spoon. “But I could use the money. It wasn’t easy covering the first semester, even with financial aid, so…”

“Makes sense,” Oliver said quickly, feeling bad for pressing. He had known that she wasn’t in a similar financial state to him, but he felt guilty knowing how much she was stretching to make ends meet when he barely paid it a second thought himself.

“What about you?” she asked. “Do you have to go back to take your exams?”

Oliver paused, dragging his spoon through the ice cream. He hadn’t planned on making this particular admission in the middle of the night over mint chip ice cream, but it seemed he had little other choice now.

“I actually don’t think I’m going back,” he said.

“What?” she stammered.

“After everything that’s happened, my family needs me here.”

“So, you’re going to take a semester off?” Felicity asked.

Oliver cleared his throat. “No, I think I’m going to enroll somewhere closer. Starling University has a pretty good business program.”

“Since when have you wanted to go into business?” Felicity blurted out.

“It’s something I’ve thought about,” Oliver said defensively. In truth, his thoughts had always been in the negative. But now, with his father’s death, it seemed like the best way for Oliver to honor him. “I’ll still come and visit.”

“Sure,” Felicity said, her voice sounding strange. She avoided his gaze as she stood and said, “I think I’m going to go to bed now.”

“Felicity-“

She turned around suddenly and asked, “What would have happened if Roger and I didn’t come here? Would you have just never come back?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver admitted. 

Felicity took a deep breath, leaning against the counter. Oliver watched her, trying to get any takeaway about what she was thinking from her expression, and when that didn’t work, he asked, “Tell me what you’re thinking. Please.”

She met his gaze and said, “I’m thinking that I can’t imagine being there without you.”

He stood without a word and walked toward her, slowly enveloping her in his arms. His eyes drifted shut when he felt her arms encircle his back, her face turned into his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Felicity pulled back and she said, “You shouldn’t be apologizing. You’re doing what you think is right.”

A bit of her ponytail had gotten mussed during their hug and he hesitated before reaching up and smoothing the hair away from her face. She gazed up at him, lips parting slightly, and he could feel the electricity between them. Just as he was about to lower his mouth to hers, they had company.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Thea said. “I was just going to get some water. I’ll just…”

Thea turned to leave and Felicity said, “It’s okay. I was just going to head back up to my room.”

Felicity exchanged one last look with Oliver, her cheeks turning red, before she turned around and headed down the corridor toward the stairwell. Thea looked at Oliver, smirking slightly, and said, “Really?”

“What?” he asked defensively.

“Isn’t picking girls up at your dad’s funeral tacky even for you?”

“I wasn’t picking her up,” he said, putting the lid back on the mint chip ice cream. 

“You sure? Because, from what I saw-“

“Thea,” he said tightly. “Would you just drop it?”

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” Thea said, taking the carton from him, along with his spoon, and helping herself to the ice cream. “It’s weird that it’s all over now. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Are we just supposed to move on?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Oliver said gently. “I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to do this.”

Thea nodded, scooping up another large spoonful of ice cream. “I like her, you know.”

“Like who?”

“Felicity.”

Oliver sighed, taking Felicity’s spoon and going back into the ice cream. “Yeah, me too.”

* * *

The next morning Felicity avoided Oliver, taking only a cup of coffee in her room as she finished up editing her paper. Oliver ate with his family and Roger, following along to the idle conversation until his mother said, “Oliver, the town car will be here at two to take you, Felicity and Roger to the airport.”

Oliver was mid-chew, and he swallowed quickly before he said, “I’m actually going to stay here.”

“You are?” Moira asked.

Roger wasn’t surprised, having already been filled in by Felicity that morning.

“I thought I’d stay here for a while. Maybe look at some school options closer to home.”

Moira blinked rapidly and then said, “Oliver, can I speak to you privately?”

He nodded, following his mother out of the dining room and to a spare study. She closed the door and asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I looked into Starling-U,” Oliver began, reciting the story he rehearsed the night before. “They take transfer students into their business program.”

“Since when have you wanted anything to do with business?” Moira asked. “Oliver, if this has anything to do with your father-“

“Of course, it has to do with dad!” Oliver interrupted, voice pained. “For my entire life, all he wanted was for me to taken an interest in Queen Consolidated. That’s all he wanted and I never did. I was a disappointment to him – “

“Oliver, you were not a disappointment.”

“I was,” Oliver held firmly. “I was, but I can fix that now. I can go into business and –“

“Oliver, stop!” Moira said loudly. She stepped forward and grasped her son’s arms. “You were not a disappointment. Not for a moment.”

“He hated that I was at MIT.”

“Your father was not the fondest of that decision,” Moira conceded. “He was a stubborn man. Just like his son. But, he never viewed you as a disappointment, Oliver. Not for a moment.”

She pulled him into a hug and said, “And, you’re wrong that all your father wanted was for you to take an interest in Queen Consolidated. Your father wanted you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“Yes, at MIT,” she said emphatically. “With your friends. Your father would not want you to sacrifice that for anything.”

Oliver wiped at his eyes, the weight he had felt in his chest for the past week pressing firmer, and said, “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” 

* * *

Felicity finished packing, trying to shake the melancholy feeling that she would not be seeing Oliver again for the foreseeable future. Not to mention whatever the hell happened in the kitchen. It almost seemed like he was going to kiss her. But that was ridiculous. Oliver didn’t see her that way.

She knocked on Roger’s door and said, “Time to go, Roger. The town car is outside.”

Roger opened the door and said, “That is one of the douchiest things I’ve ever heard you say.”

She smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you.” After a beat, she added, “We should say bye to Oliver before we leave.”

He nodded, face drawn. However, when they went over to Oliver’s room he was nowhere to be found. Felicity said that maybe he was downstairs, and when they walked down she was surprised to see him in the foyer with his bag.

“Oliver, what are you doing?” she asked tentatively.

“I was hoping there was room in the car for one more,” he said.

Felicity grinned, exchanging a look with Roger, and said, “I think we can fit you.”

“I call shotgun,” Roger said, already rushing past them toward the car. 

Felicity walked up to Oliver and asked, “Does this mean what I think it means?”

He laughed a bit at the round-about way she asked the question, and said, “If you mean I’m coming back to MIT, then yes.”

Felicity nodded, her stomach fluttering. “Good.”

“Good.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Roger knew for a while that Oliver had feelings for his best friend. He knew before Robert Queen’s funeral. Even before the pot brownie incident, where Oliver literally spent the entire night camped out beside Felicity’s bed to make sure she was alright. He hadn’t known where Felicity was on the subject until Oliver told them that he wasn’t coming back to MIT. Her disappointment went beyond the loss of a friend, and he planned to point that out on their way back, but then Oliver was at the doorway with his suitcase and the entire situation seemed moot. Roger could sense the shift between them during the ride to the airport. The loaded silence. The not-so-furtive glances. He watched the two of them sputter through Oliver’s attempt to help Felicity hoist her bag onto the conveyor belt at the security check, and thought, _game on_.

And then, nothing happened.

At first, he thought it was just timing. They had the holidays, and while Felicity was staying on campus, Oliver headed back to Starling City after his exams. It made sense not to start anything when the school calendar dictated several weeks apart. But then, they all came back in January and for the entire month, through Friday-night-movies and countless dining hall meals, absolutely nothing changed.

“When are you going to ask Felicity out?” Roger asked point blank one night. 

Oliver looked up from his computer screen and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You clearly like her. She clearly likes you. I don’t get it.”

Oliver’s jaw tightened, and he said, “I think it’s better to not go down that route.”

“Why?”

“It just is,” Oliver repeated, the finality in his tone indicating that he thought the conversation had ended. It hadn’t.

“Yeah, that still doesn’t explain anything,” Roger said. 

Oliver let out a sharp exhale and closed his laptop. “Felicity is your best friend, right?”

“Yeah,” Roger said leadingly. “Your point?”

“Then you should not want me dating her. I don’t have the best track record when it comes to dating.”

“I thought you dated the same girl all throughout high school? The one who made your life a living hell?”

“Yeah, I did,” Oliver said, rubbing uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He had mentioned Laurel before, but he didn’t share the full story. Namely, the part less flattering to him. “But, uh, I wasn’t exactly blameless in that situation. I had a bit of an issue with exclusivity.”

“Look, I don’t know who you were back at Starling Prep, but here? I’ve seen about a dozen girls try to get your attention and you’re always only looking at her.”

Oliver shook his head, opening his laptop again, and said, “It’s not happening. So, let’s just drop it, okay?”

Roger shrugged, pretending to go back to his comic book. Oliver was being dumb and, as strong-willed as Felicity was, he knew his friend wouldn’t make a move on Oliver by herself. So, it seemed like he was going to have to play matchmaker. 

* * *

Felicity had never been a big fan of Valentine’s Day. She worked part-time during high school, which didn’t leave much time for dating. And for the brief period of time she actually was dating someone, he didn’t believe in Valentine’s Day, telling her it was a made-up corporate holiday. 

Several groups on campus sponsored candy-grams, where you could send people little valentines that were delivered throughout the week leading up to Valentine’s Day. Despite her general apathy to the holiday, Felicity still found herself perking up every time one of the students came in to a classroom or a dining hall, bag filled with valentines. One particular afternoon, Roger noticed her do just that, and said, “I thought you didn’t care about Valentine’s Day.”

“I don’t,” she said, her eyes tracking the student as he walked around, delivering the valentines.

“Because it sort of seems like you care right now,” Roger said.

The guy pulled out a small bag of candy and read aloud, “Is there a Felicity…” he looked at the valentine closer, “Smoak? Felicity Smoak?”

“That’s me!” she said, voice unnaturally high. She raised her hand and repeated, “That’s me.”

The guy waked over and handed her the valentine. It was attached to a tiny bag filled with candy hearts. Felicity looked at the card, wondering who it was from, but it wasn’t signed.

“Maybe it’s a mistake,” Felicity said. Her chest tightened when she lightly ran her fingertips along the edge of the valentine. Maybe it was a mistake. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there was someone out there thinking of her. 

Roger shrugged, and they dropped it, but then later that day, during her computer science class, she got another valentine, this time with a single rose. The next morning, during breakfast, there was another.

“Looks like you have a secret admirer,” Roger said, taking a large bite of his bagel. 

“I wonder why he won’t sign his name,” Felicity said.

“Or she,” Roger said. “It’s 2020, Felicity.”

She smiled and smacked his arm. “It’s sort of exciting, isn’t it?” She glanced over at Oliver, who was suddenly finding his oatmeal very interesting. “Or at least I think it is.”

Oliver felt her gaze and he looked up, clearing his throat and saying, “Yeah, it’s exciting. Sure.”

“Oliver’s just salty because no one has sent him any valentines,” Roger said. “You know, I could send you a pity one.”

“I don’t need a pity valentine,” Oliver said sharply. His voice softened when he looked over at Felicity and said, “It is exciting, Felicity. I’m happy for you.”

There was a note of something strange in his voice, but before she could fully process it, a group of people began loudly singing on the other side of the cafeteria. Roger looked over his shoulder and said, “Ah yes, the singing-gram.”

“They’re really good,” Felicity noted.

“Wishing that your secret admirer would send you one of those next?” Roger joked.

“Only if we’re not with you,” Oliver said, standing up. “I’m going to head to class.”

“But it’s not for another hour,” Felicity said with confusion.

“Yeah, I know. I have some reading to finish for it. I’ll see you guys later.”

Felicity watched him walk away and said, “Is it just me or is he acting weird?”

“Maybe he’s jealous.”

Felicity snorted. “Yeah right.”

“It’s not a ridiculous thought,” Roger said. “I told you-“

“I know, you think Oliver has a thing for me,” Felicity said. “But, hey, guess what? If Oliver had a thing for me, he would do something.”

“You don’t know that.”

“When someone likes a person, they do something,” Felicity continued, stabbing at a piece of fruit with her fork. “A simple, hey, want to get some dinner? Or coffee. They ask you for coffee.”

“Oliver doesn’t like coffee.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. But, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need Oliver to take me out for coffee or dinner.” She picked up the valentine, smiling slightly. “Because now I have a secret admirer.”

* * *

Two days later, Felicity received her fifth valentine from her secret admirer. Except, this time, her secret admirer asked for them to meet. The plan was simple. If Felicity accepted the proposal, they would meet on Valentine’s Day at 12:00 at the center of the quad. Felicity sat with Oliver and Roger during their movie night, debating whether she should meet him. Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, which meant the clock was ticking for her to decide what to do.

“I think you should go,” Roger said. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could be a serial killer,” Oliver supplied.

“Gee thanks, Oliver,” Felicity said. “I really appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Can we just get back to movie night?” he said. It felt like all their time this week was spent talking about this mystery guy, and frankly, he was sick of it. “I really want to see what happens to Captain America.”

“You know what happens to Captain America,” Roger said. “We watched this last week.”

Oliver looked at his roommate, jaw tight, and said, “Well, I want to see it happen again.”

“I feel like I’ll regret not going,” Felicity said, ignoring him. “I’d regret it, right? Yeah, I’d definitely regret it. But maybe…”

“What are your thoughts, Oliver?” Roger asked.

“I don’t have thoughts,” Oliver said. “And I really would like to stop talking about this.”

Felicity felt a flare of anger and said, “Well, sorry buddy, but this is what we’re talking about right now. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

“We’re at _my_ dorm.”

“Too bad!” she shot back.

“You want to talk about it?” he returned loudly. “Fine, we’ll talk about it. I think all of this is ridiculous. I think you’re wasting hours obsessing over someone who’s too much of a coward to even let you know his name.”

“It’s romantic,” Felicity held.

“No, it’s pathetic,” Oliver said, voice hard.

Felicity stood up quickly, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “You’re a jerk, Oliver. Do you know that?”

“Hey guys, let’s just calm down,” Roger said, looking between them warily.

“You’re supposed to be my friend,” Felicity continued angrily. “And you can’t even let me have this one thing.”

Oliver felt guilt wash over him, and he quickly said, “Felicity.”

But she was already gone, slamming the door behind her. 

“Well, that went well,” Oliver said, slumping against his bed. He looked over at Roger, who he noticed looked a bit pale, and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”

“So, um, I have to tell you something,” Roger said.

Oliver looked over at his roommate. “What is it?”

“No one is meeting Felicity at the quad tomorrow.”

“What?”

“I sent the valentines,” Roger said. 

“You did _what_?” Oliver hissed.

“You both were so stubborn about your feelings! And I thought that if you were faced with the chance of her being with someone else, it would force you to do something. But instead, you two just ended up doing _that_.”

“She’ll be crushed if no one shows tomorrow.”

“I know. But, you could go.”

“Roger, stop,” Oliver said. “Just stop this shit, okay? I told you, that’s not going to happen. Respect it.”

“It’s dumb,” Roger pressed irritably. “All of it is dumb! I see the way you look at her. I _saw_ the way you reacted when there was the possibility of her being with someone else.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Oliver said, getting up from his bed. He grabbed his keys from his nightstand and headed toward the door. Roger asked where he was going, and he said, “Out.”

The elevators had been running slow all week, so Oliver went straight to the stairwell, stopping short when he found Felicity. She was sitting on one of the steps, shoulders hunched. She looked back, wiping at her eyes and groaned when she saw that it was him.

“Of course, it’s you,” she said unhappily. 

He hesitated before sitting down next to her. “I’m sorry for being a jerk.”

“Why can’t you just be excited for me?” Felicity asked. “Roger is.”

Oliver took a sharp inhale and said, “Yeah, well, Roger and I aren’t exactly on the same page about a lot of things right now.”

“I know it’s silly. I mean, a stranger is sending me valentines. I know what it looks like. But, what if it’s something good? What if it’s a start?”

“I don’t think you should go tomorrow.”

Felicity scoffed, beginning to stand, and he gently took a hold of her arm to stop her. “I’m not trying to be mean here, Felicity. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“You don’t think he’ll show.”

“He might not,” Oliver said slowly. “Or he could not be what you expect. I care about you, Felicity, and I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”

She turned her head toward him and asked, “Why do you care so much?”

He blinked rapidly and said, “I’m your friend.”

“Right,” she said, looking away. She stood up and said, “I appreciate your concern, but I made my decision for tomorrow. I’m going.”

* * *

Roger tried to fix his mistake the next morning. He called Felicity and told her that he sent the valentines, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Oliver put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“No, Oliver has nothing to do with it,” Roger said. “I sent you those valentines.”

“And why in the world would you do that? To admit some secret love for me? Come on, Roger. Oliver clearly got into your head. I’m going today. End of story.”

“This isn’t good,” Roger said, pacing in his and Oliver’s room. “This really isn’t good. She’s going to go there and be stood up. We have to go.”

“No, _I’ll_ go,” Oliver said. Roger went to argue, and Oliver said, “I’m pretty sure if you go and she finds out what you did, there will be some bodily harm. Probably better for her to cool down before she sees you.”

Roger nodded, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “I really messed up here, didn’t I?”

“It’s definitely not your finest moment.”

“I just thought…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter now. Will you just tell her I’m really, _really_ sorry?”

Oliver nodded. “I will.”

* * *

Felicity stood in the center of the quad, her stomach flipping every time a man walked toward her, but then he would continue walking, right past her and on to wherever he was actually going. She checked her watch. 

11:58. 

There was still time. Oliver didn’t believe it, and he somehow convinced Roger to turn on her, too, but she believed. There was someone out there for her and he was meeting her in the quad at 12:00.

“Felicity.”

She closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. She should have known he would come and try to interject himself into this.

“Oliver, please just go.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not?” she asked, turning around to face him. “Your legs look like they’re working just fine. _Go_.”

“I can’t,” he said.

“Why? Why can’t you leave?”

“Because I’m the one meeting you.”

She stared at him with confusion. She had already been nervous before, but now it felt like her heart could beat clear out of her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Roger sent you those valentines. And it was because of me. He was convinced that I had feelings for you and he thought if I was faced with the chance of losing you to someone else, I would come to terms with them.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said. He didn’t respond and she said, “That is ridiculous, right?”

Denying his feelings to Roger was one thing, but denying them to her was more difficult. She was gazing up at him and he could see her chest rise and fall rapidly as her breath quickened. It would be so easy to tell her the truth. To give in to what he had been feeling for longer than he cared to admit. 

“Felicity?”

They turned around, Felicity surprised to see this guy, Matt, from her civics class, standing behind to them.

“Hi Matt,” she said, glancing at Oliver. “Can I help you?”

“Um, I’m the person you were supposed to be meeting here. Middle of the quad at noon?” Felicity stared at him. “Surprise?”

* * *

“Wait, so you’re telling me there was another person who was _also_ sending her valentines?” Roger said. “And he also asked to meet her at noon in the middle of the quad?”

“I know. I can’t believe it either,” Oliver said.

“Are you sure that’s what actually happened?” Roger asked with disbelief. “Because that’s crazy.”

“I checked it out before I left,” he said. “Turns out she had an actual secret admirer after all.”

“But, how did she not think it was weird to get two invitations to meet?”

“She said she only got one. The other one must not have been delivered.”

“Huh,” Roger said, staring off into the distance. “I have to say, of all the ways I thought this could go, this was not one of them.”

Oliver shook his head. “Yeah, I know.”

“So, right now she’s…”

“With him.” Oliver stood up. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

* * *

An hour or two later, Oliver came back. He took a quick shower and had just changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt when there was a knock on the door. He opened the door to find Felicity standing there. She looked nervous, and asked, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah sure,” she said, stepping back.

Roger sat up from his bed and immediately began to say, “Felicity-“

“Catfishing me?” she interrupted. “Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, it was dumb. Super dumb.”

“You think?” she said. 

“I’m really, _really_ sorry and I promise to never do anything like that again. I’ve learned my lesson that subterfuge is really not my strong suit.”

“It’s really not,” Felicity said. “Do you think I can have a moment alone with Oliver?”

Roger nodded, skirting around them with an apologetic glance before leaving them alone in the room. Oliver expected Felicity to speak first, and when she didn’t, he asked, “How was your date?”

“It was fine. He’s nice.”

“That’s good.”

There was a pause and they both went to talk at the same time. Oliver smiled slightly and said, “You go first.”

“I wanted to ask you something about before,” she began slowly. “You said that Roger sent me those valentines because he thought you had feelings for me and I said that was ridiculous.”

It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway.

“Is that ridiculous?” she asked. “Because, sometimes…sometimes, it doesn’t feel that ridiculous. But, then I look at you and then I look at _me_ , and I think, hello, totally ridiculous.”

“It’s not,” he said immediately, unable to ignore the insecurity in her words. 

“Okay,” she said, her voice catching. “So, it’s not ridiculous. What does that mean?”

He let out a shaky breath and said, “It means that I think you are one of the most remarkable people I have ever met.”

She stepped toward him gingerly, waiting to see if he would put distance between them, but he didn’t. She braced her hands on his chest, gaging his reaction before she reached up and touched his face. She met his eyes, noticing the conflict there.

“I could hurt you,” he said.

He expected her to refute that, but instead she said, “Yeah, you could. And I could hurt, you, too. But those are risks I’m willing to take.” She took a deep breath. “If you are, too.”

For all the concerns he had about starting something with her, they were not stronger than the feeling of her fingers against his cheekbone. The warmth of her palm through his shirt. And so, he reached up and covered her hand with his own. Lowering his head to hers, he kissed her softly until her hand slid to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair as she deepened the kiss. When breathing became necessary he pulled away, forehead pressed against hers. 

"Hey, Felicity," he murmured.

"Yeah."

He brushed his lips once more across hers. "Happy Valentine's Day." 


	8. Chapter 8

There were many things that Felicity enjoyed doing in her free time, but recently, trying to fit with Oliver into the university-issued twin sized beds probably took the cake. This time they were in his bed, making good use of the rare instance when theirs and Roger’s schedules did not overlap. Oliver kissed her neck, his hand disappearing under her shirt and skimming along her waist. She didn’t know how he was able to make her entire body thrum with the lightest touch. And when he did more than that…

Her phone buzzed on the desk. It had been doing that for the last five minutes, and Oliver propped himself up on his elbow and asked, “Are you sure you don’t need to get that?”

“Very sure,” she said, reaching up and tugging his face down to hers again. He didn’t ask again, returning his attention to her neck and then her jaw, her mouth. His hand inched higher, fingers brushing the bottom of her bra, and then the door opened quickly, Roger rushing in.

Felicity groaned, pressing her head back against Oliver’s pillow and said, “We need a better system for this.”

Oliver snorted, his chin resting on her chest.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Roger hissed. 

“I was busy?” Felicity returned, ruffling Oliver's hair.

“Yeah, well, you’re going to regret that in a minute,” Roger said.

Before she could ask why, a high-pitched voice said, “Felicity!”

“MOM,” Felicity said loudly, instinctively pushing Oliver off of her. His shoulder hit the wall hard, and he swore under his breath as he sat up, attempting to put some distance between himself and Felicity in the presence of someone who apparently was her mother. Felicity sat up, furtively tugging her shirt down.

"I was lucky that on my way to your dorm I ran into Roger and he told me you were here!" Donna said.

"That's why I called you," Roger said. "Repeatedly."

So, that's what all the buzzing was about.

“And who is this?” Donna asked indulgently, wiggling her fingers toward Oliver. She leaned in conspiringly whispered, “Nicely done, babe.”

“He can hear you,” Felicity said tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a mother visit her daughter?” Donna said airily, dragging her suitcase on the floor with her as she walked over to Roger’s desk and sat down. She tossed a used coffee cup behind her on the desk and Roger quickly darted forward, taking it off a comic book.

“Yes, but there usually is some advanced notice,” Felicity said. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Donna said. 

Felicity took a deep breath and said, “Well, mission accomplished.”

“So, introduce me to your friend, Felicity,” Donna said leadingly. “We don’t want to be rude.” 

Felicity hesitated, wondering exactly how to introduce Oliver. He wasn’t exactly a friend anymore, but she didn’t really know what he was beyond that. They were definitely together, but what did that even really mean?

“Mom, this is Oliver. He’s my…”

“Boyfriend,” Oliver finished smoothly. He stood up and extended a hand toward Donna, who practically blushed as she reached forward and shook his hand.

“Those are some very nice manners.”

“He’s rich,” Roger said, by way of explanation.

“Oh, how nice,” Donna said with a brittle laugh, not quite knowing how to react to that, and she looked over at her daughter and said, “I was hoping we could have dinner tonight?”

“Of course, Mom,” Felicity said.

“And you should come, too,” Donna told Oliver.

“I don’t want to get in the way of any mother-daughter time,” Oliver said.

“Nonsense,” Donna said. “We’ll see you tonight.”

“And what about me?” Roger asked.

“Well, it goes without saying that you’ll be with us,” Donna said, kissing his cheek. “You’re practically my second child. Felicity, you can stay here for a little longer, if you want, and just give me the key to your room.”

“No, I’ll go with you,” she said. “You can head out to the elevators, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Donna nodded happily. “Alright. I’ll see you boys tonight!”

After she left, Felicity leaned in toward Oliver and said, “Girlfriend?”

“I hope you didn’t mind,” Oliver said, looking nervous.

Felicity took a hold of his face and gave him a quick, hard kiss. “Not a bit. You know, it’s been a while since I’ve been a girlfriend.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been a boyfriend.”

“I think we’re going to be very good at it,” she said, running her thumb along his jaw.

“I tend to agree.”

“Oh my God, you guys are annoying,” Roger groaned. “I thought the pining was bad, but this is worse.”

Felicity grinned, looking over at her friend. “Feeling neglected, Roger?”

“Oh please, we both know I could get a girlfriend if I wanted,” Roger said. “Heather from Accounting is one comment away from sexual harassment.” Felicity snorted. “Also, your mother is waiting outside.”

“Frak,” Felicity said, standing up quickly. “I will see you boys tonight.”

Felicity darted out, and Oliver looked over at Roger. “You do remember that you orchestrated our getting together, right?”

“I do,” Roger said with a sigh. “I guess this is the price to pay for my genius.”

* * *

That evening, they all met at Biaggi’s for dinner. Conversation floated easily enough, Donna not divulging too many embarrassing childhood stories, when Felicity thought she asked the easy enough question of, “So, how long do you plan on staying?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Donna said off-handedly. “Probably just for a few days, and then I thought I might rent a car and see some of the sights around here.”

“When does the casino need you back?”

Donna reached for her glass of wine. “They don’t, actually.”

“What do you mean they don’t?” Donna answered with a gulp of wine, and Felicity pressed, “Mom. What do you mean they don’t?”

“I’m taking some time off from the casino.”

“Like a vacation?”

“Sure.”

Felicity stared at her, and said, “You quit, didn’t you?”

“Felicity, I don’t really think this is the time-“

“Mom, it took you months to find that job. Especially after what happened at your last one.”

“Felicity, it’s fine,” Donna said. “I’m taking care of it.”

“How? By going on random road trips?”

“Felicity-“

“How are you supposed to support yourself? To pay for rent? Food?”

“Felicity, that’s enough,” Donna said sharply. “I will not sit here and be lectured by my own daughter.”

Felicity flushed. “Mom, I’m sorry. I’m-“

“You three enjoy your dinner,” Donna said, standing. “I’m not very hungry anymore.”

Felicity watched her mom walk away, and she murmured, “It wasn’t that bad, right?”

“It wasn’t great,” Roger said.

“I better go after her.”

Felicity went after her mother, and Oliver asked, “Is that… _normal_ for them?”

“Kind of,” Roger admitted. “Felicity feels like she has to be the adult. Which, in her defense, she sort of had to a lot when we were growing up. And then, Donna gets defensive. It usually doesn’t happen over dinner, though.”

“Should we do anything?”

“Give them space,” Roger said, plucking a piece of bread from the bread basket. “So, are we thinking appetizers or no appetizers?”

* * *

Felicity felt guilty for how she had acted at dinner, but when she went to apologize, Donna shot back, “Do you think I enjoy bouncing from job to job? Do you think I do it on purpose?”

“I don’t know,” Felicity said defensively. 

“Because, I don’t. But sometimes, you have no choice. You never knew the sorts of things I had to deal with when you were growing up, and that was purposeful. I shielded you from it all and I don’t regret that for a moment. But, the work I do. The sorts of people I have to deal with. It’s not a walk in the park, and sometimes you need to make the difficult choice.”

“I know that,” Felicity said. “I’m really sorry for what I said. I just – I didn’t expect you to be here. And then you say you’re not going back to your job, when I know how difficult things have been over the past year.”

“That shouldn’t be your concern,” Donna said, brushing a bit of hair away from Felicity’s face.

“I know, but I worry. How could I not?”

“Your mother can take care of herself,” Donna said. She took a deep breath. “Which is actually how I lost the last job.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My boss tried to force himself on me after one of my shifts and I kneed him in the groin. That didn’t go over particularly well, as you can imagine, so…”

“Mom,” Felicity breathed out.

“It’s okay,” Donna said, taking Felicity’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze. “I mean, it’s not. But, I’m okay and I’ll find another job. I actually was looking into some secretary jobs. I figured maybe it’s time to hang up my cocktail dresses.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a cocktail waitress. I don’t want you to ever think…”

“I know you never would,” Donna finished. 

Felicity gave her mom a tight hug. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”


	9. Chapter 9

Oliver and Felicity walked through campus after a late dinner, Felicity tucked securely into his side as they discussed the virtue of books and their movie adaptations. Oliver didn’t particularly have strong feelings on the subject, but he loved hearing her go on about it because she had strong opinions. After a few months together, he’d learned that Felicity had several topics with which she became incredibly passionate. Tea. (It should be served hot with milk.) The Apple versus PC debate. (Apple products were overpriced, but did last.) Who Rory should have ended up with on _Gilmore Girls_. (Logan, obviously.) And, apparently, book to movie adaptations.

“I just think if you’re going to do it at all, you should do it the right way. _And_ the right way is doing it close to the source material! Anything else, and why even bother?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She glanced up at him and said, “I’m not boring you, am I?”

“Not possible,” he said, squeezing her side. 

“I get sort of worked up about this sort of thing. Ever since _The Goblet of Fire,_ where they completely trashed the scene where Harry’s name gets chosen for the Triwizard Tournament." She shook her head swiftly. "It really was a turning point for me.”

“I can tell. You’ve brought it up no less than three times during this conversation.”

“I just don’t understand how they thought we wouldn’t notice. We’re nerds. We live to pick apart stuff like that.”

They stopped in front of her building and she turned her body in to him, draping her arms around his neck. Her eyes drifted shut as he brushed his mouth against hers.

“You know, I’ve never actually seen that movie,” Oliver said.

“What movie?”

“Harry Potter.”

Felicity’s eyes popped open. “Wait, do you mean that movie specifically, or all of them?”

Oliver shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

“You’ve at least read the books, right?”

Oliver shook his head and when she asked what better thing he could possibly be doing instead, he said, “You probably don’t want to know the answer to that.”

“You know, sometimes I’ve thought about if we would have ever crossed paths before college. And now, I can say with pretty strong certainty that’s a no.”

He smirked, tugging her closer. “I don’t know, I always had a thing for blondes.”

“Then we _definitely_ wouldn’t have crossed paths. I wasn’t a blonde until a year ago.”

“Wait, seriously?” Oliver said. “I would have never known.”

“I have a very good hair colorist. If I had to choose one person to save during an apocalypse, it would probably be her.”

Oliver snorted. “Good to know.”

“Hey, I’m sorry that I was going on so much about _Harry Potter_ before considering you have literally no frame of reference,” she said, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Next time, you can stop me.”

“I didn’t want to stop you. I like watching you be passionate about things. It’s nice.”

“You’re nice,” she said, pressing her body against his and turning her face into his neck. She pressed a soft kiss to his pulse point and then murmured, “Even if I did just learn you are culturally defective.”

He chuckled warmly, keeping her close as she trailed kisses up his jaw to his mouth. They were in public and probably should have been a little less of this, but he didn’t care. When he was in his arms, he didn’t care about much else, and as he kissed her it struck him how perfectly she not only fit there, but everywhere. In a few short months, she had become somewhat of an indispensable factor in his life, and a realization hit him so suddenly, so _simply,_ that he didn’t know how he didn’t come to it sooner. When they parted she looked up at him, her breathing just north of normal, and she asked, “What is it?”

“I love you, Felicity.” 

She blinked rapidly and a cold discomfort settled on his chest with each beat of silence. Felicity was never quiet, but right now they could have heard a pin drop. Carefully, she said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He expected her to say more, but she had nothing else to say. At least not then, when her mind was so loud that it could drown out a freeway.

“I should probably get upstairs,” Felicity said. “Do you want to come up?”

She never asked him that before. It was always assumed. And so, he shook his head and said, “I think I should actually call it a night.”

“Okay.”

She still didn’t make a move for the door, and he said, “Unless you want me to come up.”

“Totally up to you,” she said, beginning to rock on her heels.

“Well-“

“Felicity, I was looking for you!” her RA said, walking toward her. “You have a package in the mailroom.”

“Oh good.” She looked over at Oliver. “Well, then I better…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

She nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

Oliver unlocked the door to his room and walked in, shutting it loudly behind him. Roger was watching something on his laptop, and he paused the show and said, “I thought you were staying at Felicity’s tonight.”

“Nope,” Oliver said, toeing his shoes off at the doorway. “Not tonight.”

“What happened?” Roger asked immediately.

“Why do you just assume something happened? Maybe I was tired.”

Roger scoffed and said, “You two are never tired around each other. Believe me, I’ve been one bed over.”

“Look, nothing happened,” Oliver returned shortly. “I just told her that I loved her and she didn’t really say anything back.”

“Our definitions of nothing are vastly different. What do you mean she didn’t say anything back?”

“She said thank you.”

Roger snorted and then immediately said, “Sorry. It’s just so polite. And _very_ Felicity.”

“Maybe I said it too soon,” Oliver said, laying down on his bed. “This is why guys don’t like to do this shit.”

“I don’t think it’s ever too soon so long as you mean it. And, you know, it’s not the first date or something.”

“I meant it,” Oliver said. “And I didn’t really expect her to say it back. That’s not why I said it. But, she _really_ didn’t say it back. And then, there was this whole weird thing about whether I’d go up to her room.”  
“And we all see how that turned out.”

Oliver looked over at his roommate and said, “You’re really not helping here.”

“I told you, I am only good at the initial subterfuge. Afterwards, I’m pretty useless.”

“Might I remind you that your initial subterfuge was catfishing your best friend?” Oliver said.

“Yeah, and it worked, didn’t it?”

“I’ll just give it some time. It’ll blow over.” 

* * *

In the wake of Oliver telling Felicity that he loved her, she was in need of a distraction to keep her from having to sort out her own feelings, and she got exactly that with the Oxfam dance-a-thon. It was your basic all-night dance-a-thon with the proceeds going to Oxfam and a collection of other charities that all teamed up on campus. Felicity was on the board for the event, and threw herself completely into the planning. She auditioned all the bands. Hand-selected the décor. That on top of her school work left little time for socializing, and by the time of the event, she had only seen Oliver a handful of times and only for short stints. Roger, she saw even less.

“Are we even friends anymore?” he joked when they saw each other at the venue.

“Of course, we are. I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy.” She noticed Oliver was missing and asked, “Is he coming separately?”

“No, he’s here somewhere. He stopped in the bathroom.”

Felicity felt weirdly nervous to see him. After avoiding him for a good week, they were signing up for a full night of dancing where save for the three allotted passes when someone else could cut in, they were going to have to be together. She hoped that maybe the forced togetherness could help them get through the weirdness.

She spotted him across the hall and her heartbeat quickened, like always. He was wearing a suit, the white button-up open at his neck. Oliver looked good in just about everything he wore, but there was something about him in formal wear that always got her. Their eyes met and he smiled slightly, her stomach fluttering. And then she felt it. The pull at the base of her belly mixed with white hot fear. She wanted to run away – far away – but then his hand was on her waist and he kissed her cheek.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you. So do you. I mean, you look the male equivalent of beautiful. Whatever that is.”

“I think it’s handsome,” Roger piped in. “Or dapper. Words that you have not used to describe me tonight, might I add.”

Felicity smirked. “You are both handsome _and_ dapper, Roger.”

“Well, that goes without saying,” he said, straightening his suit jacket with a tug of his lapels. It was his cosplay one again, and thanks to some late-night snacks, it fit a bit better than at Robert Queen’s funeral.

“You know you don’t have to stay the full night, right?” Felicity said to Roger. Oliver, on the other hand, had signed up for a full night of dancing.

“There’s food all night, right?” Felicity nodded. “Then I’ll be here all night.”

Felicity laughed. “Okay then.” She looked up at Oliver. “We probably should get over to the dance floor. They’ll start the clock soon.”

She picked up their dance card from the table it had been resting on – Couple 22 – and tacked it on to the back of his suit jacket.

“So, it’s 24-hours of dancing?” Oliver asked as they walked over to the floor.

“That or until the last couple is standing,” she said. “I think the longest it’s gone is twelve.”

“We can manage that,” he said, his arm sliding around her waist. Her body instinctively leaned in and she felt it again – the push and pull, and one part of that equation was definitively winning. Oliver read into her silence, and said, “Felicity, look, if we’re going to spend the entire night like this-“

“It’s fine,” she interrupted, voice falsely bright. “I’m fine.”

“Felicity-“

“Let’s just have a nice time, okay? We don’t have to…we can sort out everything else another time, okay?”

“Okay,” he said unhappily.

* * *

Several hours later, the pair swaying slowly with Felicity’s chin propped on Oliver’s shoulder, he murmured, “I can just take it back.”

So much for not talking about it, she thought.

“That’s not how it works,” she said. “You can’t just take it back.”

“Why not? I said it. They’re my words.”

“I don’t want you to take it back,” she said stubbornly.

“Well, maybe I do. Because, we were happy before. Really happy. And ever since I told you I loved you, it’s like all of that has changed.”

Felicity wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that nothing had changed, but there was truth in what he said. There was a shift since he said those three words. A shift in her. To be quite honest, those three words terrified her.

“Do we have to talk about this now?” she asked. 

“Felicity, I have this feeling that if we don’t talk about it now, we never will. You’ve avoided me for the past week. Any time I tried to talk to you, you made up some excuse.”

“I was busy,” she said weakly.

He exhaled sharply and said, “Look, if you don’t love me-“

“I never said that,” she interrupted.

He looked down at her. “What?”

“I never said I didn’t love you. I just…” she trailed off, her nerves stretched so tightly that she felt as if she would break. “I’ve never actually said those words to anyone besides my mom. I’m sure if you asked a shrink, she’d say it has something to do with my dad. I don’t know. All I know is that any time I’ve gotten close, it feels like my skin wants to turn inside out.”

“You’ve gotten close?”

She avoided his gaze as she said, “Just once.”

“Felicity.”

“When you said you loved me, all I felt was fear. Not happiness. Not joy. _Fear_.” She finally looked at him. “What does that say about me?”

“I’m not going to leave you, you know,” Oliver said, his arms tightening around her waist. “If you’re concerned about that, it’s not going to happen.” 

“Oliver,” she said in a low voice. “That’s a nice sentiment, but we’re nineteen.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “My parents met when they were twenty and they were married for thirty years. Age doesn’t matter. It’s the person that does. And, I think I chose pretty well here. I love you, Felicity.”

“I thought you were taking it back,” she said in a small voice.

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before I was pretty sure you loved me, too.” 

“Oliver-“

He dropped his mouth down to hers and kissed her. It was a hard kiss, like he was trying to communicate everything his words couldn’t with his mouth. She gave into the moment, grasping his face with her hands, their feet stilling. She wanted to believe him. That if she gave him all of her, they could make this work. But, she had been hurt before. She didn’t have many memories of her father. She was only two when he left, but she remembered that day. Her mother crying. His blue suitcase. She hadn’t understood, stumbling over and around the concept that someone who was supposed to be irrevocably hers could just leave.

“Couple 22!” the announcer said loudly, startling both Oliver and Felicity. “Couple 22, you are done! Please remove yourself from the dance floor!”

Felicity’s brain was about three paces from the rest of her, but luckily Oliver had better control of his faculties and he tugged her to the side of the dancefloor. 

“We’re done already,” she said. “I can’t believe it. I’m a horrible board-member.”

“I’m sorry, I feel like I’m a bit to blame here.”

She looked up at him and smiled slightly, taking a hold of his hand. “It’s not your fault.”

“You guys are done already?” Roger said, joining them. “I’ve only gotten through half the food options.” 

Oliver looked over at his roommate and said, “Too full?”

“Of course not,” Roger returned easily. “I got distracted by Patty Nichols from my trig class. She asked to dance, and apparently, I am a very good partner because then everyone else started asking me to sub in. You know, dance-a-thons might be my new thing.”

“I’m very happy for you,” Oliver said.

Felicity watched the exchange, feeling a certain warmth spread through her body. Here he was. This impossibly handsome specimen of a man who had dropped into her life when she least expected him. It was just about as inconceivable as any other impossible thing, but he was here, holding her hand and bantering with her best friend. He had chosen her, not once but every day since they confessed their feelings. And, he told her that he would continue to choose her. Every day. She had no way to know if that would hold true. No one did. But, she decided then to believe it. Because, as much as her father chose to leave seventeen years ago, she could choose to stay. She could choose him.

“Oliver,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

There was a beat of silence and then Oliver tugged her toward him, his arms encircling her waist as he kissed her soundly. Roger clapped his hands together and said, “I think this calls for a taco!”

When Oliver pulled away, he gamely said, “No takebacks now. By either of us.”

Felicity nodded, surprised by how calm she felt now that she had said the words. It was almost like a weight had been lifted. 

“No takebacks.”

Roger returned with tacos for all of them and they went outside, sitting on the cold concrete in their formalwear, eating tacos and talking about nothing and everything. Looking back, all three would recall it as one of their best college memories. In fact, Roger mentioned it specifically during his speech at Felicity and Oliver’s wedding, raising his champagne flute as he said, “May your life together be filled with love and tacos. The foundation of any happy marriage.”

Felicity raised her champagne flute, resting her head on Oliver’s shoulder. A lot had happened since they were all together outside that dance-a-thon, but when Oliver asked her to marry him, it was the easiest choice she ever had to make. Because while her life hadn't always been simple, loving him was. 

"Oliver," she murmured, taking his hand and holding it on her help. 

He glanced over at her. "Yeah?"

"I really love you."

He grinned and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "I love you, too."


End file.
